Merry Christmas, Team Sex Pest!
by MissScarletInTheLibrary
Summary: "Or, in the case of Ambrose, go out to Vegas and get wild." Ambrose/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Merry Christmas, Team Sex Pest! Team Sex Pest is my affectionate nickname for anyone who finds Dean Ambrose appealing. He's a blatant sex pest – in the best possible way. The eyes, the voice, the body. **

**Anyway, this is a fluffy multi-chapter fic that I cobbled together over the holidays. Forget that Christmas has passed, I firmly believe that Christmas and Ambrose can be enjoyed at any time of year. It was inspired by the Onnit podcast, where Seth said that Dean spends his holidays getting wild in Vegas. That got me thinking, and here is the result…**

**P.S. I lay no claim to WWE copyrights or trademarks, etc. Everything else referenced in the story is mine.**

**Please review, and let me know if I should continue with this :D**

* * *

_**Christmas Eve **_

_**Las Vegas, Nevada**_

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. You can expect lengthy delays of up to eighteen hours. Even if you do make it to O'Hare, flights have been cancelled due to the inclement weather that they are experiencing there. I can recommend a hotel that you might wish to book into for the night?"

A string of curse words rapidly streamed out of Aliona Tereshkova's mouth. Luckily, they were in Russian, so she doubted that many people around her would understand, let alone be offended by them.

"But it's _Christmas Eve_," she said pleadingly, her large brown eyes reflecting the desperation that she felt. Couldn't she get her own Christmas miracle right about now? "I have to get back to my family in time for Christmas Day. Please. Isn't there anything that you can do? Are there any private flight companies that I can contact?"

"I understand that this is an important holiday, but there are hundreds of thousands of passengers in the same position. This snowstorm has blitzed the entire eastern seaboard and taken out much of the Midwest. All that I can currently do is recommend a hotel, or advise you as to wait time – which as I said, is up to eighteen hours due to the severity of the backlog."

"Fine. Thank you." Letting out an exasperated sigh, she gathered her luggage together and walked away from the Customer Service desk. Some help they had been.

She dragged her cases over to a column and leaned against them, her mind sorting through her options.

She would never make it from Las Vegas to Chicago on time by car. Bus was also out of the question. Perhaps train could work. Commercial flights had been grounded, but… Aliona pulled her cellphone out of her coat pocket, quickly tapping out a familiar number.

She chewed her lower lip as she listened to it ring, smudging the cherry red lipstick that highlighted her mouth. "Please just answer, please," she whispered, her world having been reduced to a tight chest full of hope and the sound of that dial tone. Her father's bass voice boomed through her ear, instructing her to leave a message after the beep.

Sighing, she left a quick voicemail, explaining her current predicament and asking if he could look into booking a private flight that would get her to Chicago in time for her connection.

Several minutes passed, her eyes lingering on the screen of her phone, praying that it would come to life with a solution to this horrible problem. She didn't know a soul in Vegas. Her family was thousands of miles away in St. Petersburg, Russia. Christmas was inching closer by the second. She had finished work at nine am that morning, then rushed to the airport so that she could begin the long journey home. She hadn't even had time to change out of her work clothes.

The sound of a throat clearing brought her back to her senses. She glanced up, surprised to find a young man standing in front of her, scratching the back of his neck, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation at the desk," he began, looking at her with pale blue eyes. "I know this is out of left field, but if you need some information about private flight companies, I know some people who might be able to help you out."

She watched him carefully, unsure of his motivations. Being alone so very far from home, and stressed out about potentially missing the most important family day of the year, she was on her guard with strangers. However, in this instance, she really wasn't in any position to refuse help.

"I would really appreciate that," she nodded. "Thank you…"

"Dean. Dean Ambrose." He offered his hand, which she accepted, noting how his large, warm one engulfed her own.

"Aliona Tereshkova," she supplied her own name, rubbing the palm that she had reluctantly removed from his grip.

"That's quite the mouthful," he said with a lopsided smile.

"You can call me Ali," she replied, a rush of _something _coursing through her blood as she assessed him.

"Alright, Ali. I'll call these guys up, it'll be quicker that way. Fingers crossed they can do something for you."

She raised her own crossed fingers, smiling at him as he whipped out his phone and wandered away a few steps.

Well, this was unexpected. A handsome man suddenly appearing to offer assistance in her hour of need? Because he was handsome. He was tall, well built, with broad shoulders and long legs. His blond hair was messy, but it suited him. The most striking things about him were those blue eyes, observing the world from beneath hooded lids, and a deep voice that she felt resonate in her body when he spoke.

"It'll take a few minutes while they look through their bookings," he explained, as he returned a few minutes later.

A brief silence cropped up between them.

"So, Dean Ambrose, was your flight delayed too?"

He shook his head, his eyes focused intently on her face, "Nope. I got back into town a couple days ago. The airline screwed things up and lost my luggage. I swung by to claim it today. Where are you headed?"

"Russia. I have to get back to my family for Christmas."

"You're Russian?" His eyebrows crept up beneath his dishevelled blond fringe. "What brings you to Vegas?"

"Oh, just some work commitments," she replied nonchalantly, pulling her coat tighter against her body.

He was about to ask her to elaborate when his cell began to ring. "It's the flight company," he explained, before picking up and ambling away again.

Aliona's eyes drifted down to his backside, noting the snug fit of the denim over his firm ass. What a joy it would be to cup and squeeze that butt. It was so tight. She wondered if she could bounce quarters off of it. He turned unexpectedly, and she quickly forced her eyes to the floor. He might be less inclined to help if he caught her creeping on him.

She should not be thinking these thoughts about a kind stranger. Although handsome, he remained just that – a stranger. Unfamiliar people were not to be trusted. Her father had drilled that into her from a very young age.

Instead of focusing on that delectable behind, she let her gaze travel around, wistfully watching as families reunited at the arrivals hall. They looked so incredibly happy, some of them sporting festive sweaters and Santa hats, others wearing massive smiles beneath tear-tracked cheeks.

Dean brought her out of the moment, having silently returned to her side, "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they're completely booked up. The last flights just barely got out, and they're expecting similar delays to the regular airlines. That storm has really messed up everyone's plans."

Aliona resolutely swallowed down the hard lump that had formed in her throat. She blinked a few times, tamping down on the tears that threatened to fill her eyes.

"Oh, that's a shame. Well…thank you so much for trying. You didn't have to offer to help, but I'm very glad that you did. Have a wonderful holiday." She managed to smile up at him, her hands reaching behind her to grab her stack of luggage. She felt the need to walk, despite not having anywhere to go. Walking usually helped clear her mind - maybe it could help her find the solution to this impossible problem.

"Wait – where are you going to go now?" He furrowed his eyebrows, watching as she prepared to leave.

"I-I don't really know," she confessed, instantly regretting this admission. She tried to brighten her tone on the next words - her being stranded here really wasn't his problem.

"I'll get a hotel room. Christmas in Las Vegas really won't be so bad. I mean, who wouldn't want to be here? I'll catch up with my family in a few days. My Dad should be able to help me out with re-organising flights. I'll be fine." She widened her eyes earnestly, hoping to sound believable. Her ability to perform convincingly was the source of her livelihood, she should be able to pull it off with this man.

"Yeah, I don't think so," she heard him mutter as she began to walk away. He reached out to gently grab her shoulder, turning her around to face him. His abrupt behaviour shocked her. He had done his good deed for the day, what else could he want from her?

"Why don't you come stay with me for the night?"

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows at him, her mouth falling open in a little O of surprise.

Ahhhh, so _that's_ why he had been so friendly and helpful. Did she really look like the type of girl that he could pick up in an airport, take her home and bang her senseless? Not that the last part would have been too much of an ordeal…but she had morals, damnit!

"You want to take me home?" Her question was one of disbelief, with a steely edge running through it, as she crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out.

"No! I didn't mean it like that," he rushed to reassure her, putting his palms up as if to push away her interpretation of his words. "I meant, you can crash at my place for the night. No funny business. It's Christmas Eve in Vegas, you'll have a hard time finding a hotel. Your other option is to bed down on your suitcase here and wait for an update. Now, it's completely your choice, but I know which one I'd prefer."

She eyed him thoughtfully, further smudging her lipstick as she worried her lip with her teeth. She ran her tongue along her teeth once she realised what she was doing. He had a point. If thousands had been affected, as the airline rep had stated, then they would all be clamouring for accommodation in the city tonight. This man had approached her, without any real incentive to help her, and was now offering another solution to her desperate predicament.

"How do I know that I can trust you?" She asked, the challenge obvious in her question.

"Google me."

She couldn't hold back the little smile that his comment provoked, as she continued to watch him sceptically, "Excuse me?"

"You can Google me," he repeated, offering her his iPhone. "You'll get my bio, images, career history. You can even check my record. I don't have anything to hide."

Knowing that she had to keep her head in this situation, she took his phone and opened up the search engine. The first set of images popped up, causing her to bite her lip. "Wow, you really don't have anything to hide…" She murmured softly, scrolling through the professional quality pictures of Dean in a tiny pair of trunks. "Are you a stripper?"

"What? No, I am _not_ a stripper," he huffed. "…Not that there's anything wrong with being a stripper. I fully support a woman's right to choose a career as a stripper."

"But not a man's?" She teased, enjoying watching him squirm. He paraded around in practically nothing for his job (presumably), and yet she had managed to get him flustered. Was that a light blush that she detected on his cheeks?

"Read my Wikipedia!" He insisted, shaking his head and grinning at her as he realised that he was being played.

"You're twenty eight years old, you're from Ohio, and you wrestle? Oh, and you wear a pair of Speedos very well."

"All true - but they're wrestling trunks darling, not Speedos," he corrected her.

"Well, my point still stands."

Flirting with a stranger was kind of thrilling. Everything about this scenario was out of the ordinary, completely out of her comfort zone…and yet, she was loving every minute of it. This man was exciting. He made her feel bold.

Dean shrugged, silently acknowledging the truth in her statement. He was only too aware that chicks liked him. And some dudes, too.

"So, now that you've seen everything that you need to know about me, what do you say? Are you up for a sleepover?" His swagger had returned, he was determined to give as good as he got with Ali.

"Aren't you worried that _I'm_ an axe murderer?" She asked, handing his phone back to him.

"I think I'll take my chances," he drawled, shifting his bag on his shoulder. "So, is that a yes?"

She paused for a long moment, tearing her eyes away from him in order to think rationally.

As the situation stood, she was stranded, alone, in an unfamiliar city. This hot, intriguing man had appeared and offered her a place to stay, on a night when every hotel room was likely booked out. She didn't get any sketchy vibes from him - he actually seemed pretty genuine.

He had a high profile, much like herself, and wouldn't stand to gain anything from hurting her if it became public knowledge. In fact, he had a lot to lose.

"But won't your family mind entertaining a stranger on Christmas Eve?"

"That won't be a problem," he assured her, scratching the back of his neck again. "I live on my own. Look, I know this is weird, and I understand your hesitancy. You should be suspicious, that's a smart reaction. But, I wouldn't normally do this, and I think this offer is better coming from me, rather than any other stranger who could wander up to you."

"Why do you want to help me?" She asked bluntly. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore.

"Chalk it up to my cold, dead heart being ignited with some Christmas spirit for the day," he said wryly, a small smile tugging at his full lips. "Plus, you're hot."

Aliona noticed that he was skilled at dodging topics that made him uncomfortable. She wondered how and why he had developed that particular ability. Hearing his response, and considering all of the information that she had available to her, she finally made a decision.

"I'd love to spend the night at your place."

* * *

"Here we are, home sweet home," Dean declared, swinging open the front door of his apartment with a flourish, and stepping back to allow Aliona to enter.

She tightened her grip on her bag as she crossed the threshold, trying to take in every little detail. The drive from the airport had been a short one, during which she had texted Dean's address to her father. There was no harm in having a little extra security. It bothered her that he hadn't responded to her voicemail yet, but she had to focus on being grateful for having a place to sleep that night.

Dean had insisted on taking her two large suitcases from her at the airport, and now placed them next to the hallway cupboard. He went to stand beside her, watching her face while she surveyed the large open plan living room.

"Nice place," she commented, walking over to the floor length windows that dominated the space and setting her bag down. The view of the strip was spectacular from the twenty seventh floor. She was impressed by his taste in décor, which consisted of lots of dark wood and neutral colours. It was minimalist, but masculine. The soft black leather couch looked particularly inviting.

"Let me take your coat," he said, coming up behind her and pulling at the material before she had a chance to protest. A weak and belated "no!" fell from her lips as he dragged the fabric away from her body. Her cheeks burned, imagining what his face looked like now that he could see what she was wearing underneath it.

He exhaled loudly, the cool air hitting her square between the shoulder blades. Goosebumps broke out across her skin, vast expanses of which happened to be exposed at that particular moment.

"Are you a stripper?" He asked, mocking her with her own question from earlier that morning. She put her face in her hands, hoping that this was all a bad dream. Sighing, she turned to face him, taking in his pleased smirk, and the mischievous glint in those gorgeous blue eyes.

"No, I am _not_ a stripper," she replied curtly, mimicking his own response to that very question. "I'm a performer."

"So…you're a fancy stripper," he shot back, running his tongue along his bottom lip as his eyes drank her in.

"No! I'm a singer. I'm actually quite well known back home."

"Psh, Russia famous is not famous. I'm worldwide, babe. _That_ is being quite well known."

Rolling her eyes, she yanked the coat back from him and held it protectively in front of her body. She knew that it had been a mistake to not change before heading to the airport that morning, but she was just so sleep deprived and desperate to get on the plane, that she had remained in her skimpy outfit from the video shoot.

Her management team had insisted that she adopt a sexier image now that she was trying to break into the American market. After all, she had to compete with the likes of Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. If she wanted to stand a chance against those heavyweights, then she needed to draw the attention of a mass audience. Skin was the way to go.

"Eyes up here, _babe_," she replied sarcastically, secretly pleased with the heated look that appeared in his eyes. The tight red bra and hotpants combo, embellished with thousands of diamantes, obviously did something for him.

His eyes snapped back up to hers, suddenly unreadable beneath the hooded lids. "You should get changed."

Nodding, she retrieved her bag from the floor, while keeping her coat firmly in place over her chest. "Where's your bathroom?"

"First door on the right," he gestured in the general direction, walking over to look out of the windows, his hands on his hips.

As she changed, Aliona wondered how she had managed to find herself in this strange scenario. So far, Dean had been nothing but a gentleman…with a little edge. That edge delighted her. His mannerisms, looks and that _voice_ were all so intoxicating, combining to create a lethal weapon against her female defences. She didn't know why she even bothered to think such things - nothing was going to happen. She would spend the night here, and then proceed on her merry way tomorrow when the backlog of delays had been cleared.

Despite knowing all of this, she still made a little extra effort with her outfit and make-up. She softened the make-up that had been required for the shoot, and pulled on skinny jeans, a soft, red fitted sweater (t'was the season, after all) and black boots. The look was feminine and festive.

She found Dean in the kitchen, brewing up a pot of coffee. He glanced back at her as she entered, his eyes coursing over her outfit approvingly. "You're very versatile. You can go from stripper to angel like _that." _He clicked his fingers on the last word, another smirk touching his lips.

"And yet you remain an asshole _all_ of the time. What a limited skill set you have."

Their volleys back and forth were proving to be an extremely fun game.

"I'm touched that you noticed," he said sincerely, placing a hand on his chest. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Does a latte count as breakfast?" She wondered, settling herself on a stool at the kitchen island.

"Absolutely not. A little thing like you needs to be fed up." He opened a cupboard, pulling out various pots and bowls. His next stop was the refrigerator, where he piled up the required ingredients in his arms.

"Please, please, _please_ do not make my cholesterol skyrocket," she pleaded jokingly, watching as he threw sausages and bacon into a frying pan, the sizzle and scent quickly filling the air. It smelled so damn _good_ to her, a distinctive gurgle from her tummy confirming this fact. "I have to be able to fit into my stage outfits."

"You shouldn't bother with clothes – _that's_ how you'll get worldwide fame."

"You're right, I should take a leaf out of your book."

Breakfast was soon served. Aliona dug into the feast that he placed before her with abandon, relishing the taste of the delicious grease and fat. Her father would have a fit if he saw her eating this – but he wasn't here, and it _was_ Christmas. Time to indulge.

"Jesus, where do you put it all?" He asked, staring at her incredulously as she took her empty plate to the sink and started rinsing all of the dirty utensils.

"My ass," she rolled her eyes, scrubbing away at the frying pan. "So, what are your plans for the day? I'm conscious of imposing on you today. I don't want you putting anything off because of me. I'll just potter about and try to stay out of your way."

"I had kind of hoped that you would impose on my plans, which mostly involved sitting on my couch in my boxers and drinking until I passed out."

"Like I said, don't put that off because of me," she jested, drying the plates and replacing them in the cupboard.

"Well, what would you normally do on Christmas Eve?" He offered her a second cup of coffee when she returned to the island, dropping a mountain of sugar into the dark liquid at her request.

"Work. There are carols to be sung, toys to be delivered to the children's hospital, videos featuring me in tiny shorts to be made." Aliona didn't exactly sound enthusiastic about all of the above.

"I thought you were all about time with your family. What are your traditions?" It was difficult for Dean to not let his mind wander to these tiny shorts that she mentioned, but he tried his damnedest to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

"…Work," she said, not sounding half as sure of herself now. "I just like to be with them on Christmas Day."

"No exchanging presents the night before? No mulled wine and fist fights? No visiting a jolly old fat man at the mall?" His experience of Christmas had hardly been conventional, but even he could tell that her customs were not the norm.

She shook her head, her eyes cast downward, while her fingers played with the edge of the coffee coaster. "No. I've never met Santa Claus."

"Seriously?" A look of disbelief crossed his face, the suddenly quiet girl before him further piquing his interest.

When she didn't respond, he brought his palms down to the countertop with a bang and stood up. "Right, that's it. Let's go."

Aliona peeked up at him from beneath her long, dark eyelashes. "Go where, exactly?"

"We're going to make sure that you enjoy your first American Christmas, with all of the trimmings. You're going to sit on a fat old man's lap today. You're going to drink alcohol until you start saying inappropriate things. You're going to eat your weight in chocolate. I won't be satisfied until you are a merry, messy girl who can't move because she's so full of hooch and food and sausage."

"Sausage?"

"Yeah, you'll be stuffed full of sausage by the time this day is over."

* * *

Rather than the flurries of snow that she was accustomed to on Christmas Eve, the air was balmy around them as they left the car and walked toward the mall entrance. It was seventeen degrees, a completely foreign notion to Aliona. Her sweater already felt a little too warm, a thought that left her when the cool air of the mall hit.

"Now, first things first," Dean announced, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and removing a pen from behind his ear. When had he even put it there…?

"You've got a list? You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" She said, smiling when he winked at her.

"I've got a list, and I'm checking it twice, " he said in a sing-song voice, "but the question is – have you been _naughty_ or nice?"

Those words woke her sex right up. Aliona attempted to ignore the intimate clench. "Oh, I have been the _nicest_ this year. Promise."

He assessed her thoughtfully, pursing his lips, "Hmm, I don't know if I believe that, but we'll let it slide for the moment. We're going to reconcile a deep wrong right now – you're going to meet Santa. He's up there in his ice-castle, come on, let's go!"

Dean bounded away from her, making it difficult for her to keep up with his long stride. Aliona giggled as she jogged along, rolling her eyes as he pulled faces at her on the escalator, before dragging her along to Santa's residence.

The long line was thronged with harried looking parents, and bratty kids yelling and crying at the top of their lungs. Aliona looked at them warily, wondering if this was an experience that she was better off never having.

"Don't worry, I've got this," he whispered, moving away from her and walking toward a bored looking elf, who stood guard at the entrance to the castle. As soon as he approached, she immediately perked up, adjusting her hat self-consciously. Dean leaned a hand casually against the wall, giving her his undivided attention, and threw a devastatingly cute smile her way.

Aliona felt envious of the elf, who blushed and smiled up at him, her eyes glinting. It would be a truly wonderful thing to be on the receiving end of Dean Ambrose's charm. Aliona had already had a small taste of it, but he had yet to fully blast her with it. She could only dream that it would actually happen.

Oh, well. Keep dreaming.

A few minutes later, he swaggered back over, took her by the elbow and led her inside the castle.

"What are you doing?" She hissed. "We can't just skip the line."

"Oh yes we can," he replied, pushing her deeper into the belly of the wooden structure. A thick red carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps, the walls adorned with sketches of Santa doing various activities, including skiing and feeding his reindeer. They rounded a corner and met another elf who sprang to life, just like her elven sister had, at the sight of Dean.

"Hey Jessica, Sarah told me that it'd be cool if we came through real quick," he said smoothly, putting his arm around Aliona's shoulders and pulling her into his side. She tried to play along as well as she could, unused to the spontaneity that characterised life with Dean Ambrose.

"Oh, of course," Jessica replied quickly, her eyes full of warm approval…and a little something extra. "Who's this?"

Well, Jessica certainly was blunt, wasn't she?

"This is…," Dean began, looking down at Aliona with pitying eyes. "Her name is unpronounceable, to be honest, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that she has lived a very tragic life to this point. She's an orphan from Russia, who has never celebrated Christmas. She has _never even met Santa Claus._"

He paused for dramatic effect, as Jessica's eyes opened wide in horror, her hand covering her mouth.

"Isn't that just the saddest thing that you have ever heard, Jessica?" Dean asked sincerely, gazing directly at the elf, his blue eyes full of sorrow.

Jessica nodded her head fervently, sparing a second to glance at Aliona, before immediately turning her attention back to the man in front of her. "That's just _horrible_," she breathed.

Aliona's eyes flew back and forth between the pair, her brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell was he doing?

She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by Dean's finger on her lips. "Shhhh, sweetheart," he whispered soothingly. "Don't panic. I know this is very overwhelming for you."

Aliona, realising that she would never win against his charm offensive, opted to snake her arm around his waist and pinch his side instead.

He didn't even flinch. Damn, he was good at this.

"She's sixteen years old," he continued, rubbing his hand reassuringly over her shoulder. "I know what you're thinking – she looks pretty haggard for sixteen, but these Russian peasants age much faster than you and I, Jessica."

Aliona's fingers skirted beneath his shirt, before she dug her nails into the smooth flesh of his back. This time, he jumped slightly at the unexpected sting. He smiled down at her patronisingly. "Take it easy, sweetheart. I know you're eager to sit on that old man's lap, but you must be patient."

She couldn't help herself. She grunted. Jessica eyeballed her disapprovingly when she thought that Dean wasn't looking.

"Who's next, Jessica?" A deep voice boomed from beyond the red velvet curtain that led into the next room.

Santa sounded tired, and a little pissed off. Aliona gulped loudly.

"Don't be afraid, little one," Dean said in a hushed tone, squeezing her shoulder.

_Little __one?_Aliona's face said it all – he was dead the very second they left this public place.

He pushed her through the curtain, causing her to stumble into the centre of the room. She glanced around in a daze, stilling when she saw the man himself sitting on an elaborate throne. His eyes lit up when he spotted her, shifting in the chair and gesturing for her to come forward and sit on his lap.

Santa sure did seem…friendly, all of a sudden. Aliona looked at Dean, silently pleading with him to make this all stop. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the far wall, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Santa wants to get to know you better, and make up for all of those lonely years in Russia. Damn Communism, depriving a little girl of Santa Claus!" His voice cracked with emotion on the last few words, causing Jessica to sigh dreamily at him.

The elf quickly briefed Santa on Aliona's history. The jolly old man looked disturbingly pleased upon hearing the heartbreaking tale.

"Come here, my dear," he said encouragingly, patting his thighs. "Santa would like to hear all about your Christmas wishes. No dream is too small. Tell me _everything_ you desire."

Her face scrunched up in horror, disgusted by this perverted old lech. He was enjoying this way too much. Almost as much as the perverted young lech, who had gotten her into this messed up situation, was.

"Don't worry, Santa. Don't let her expression fool you. She's very excited to meet you. Go on, sweetheart. Santa's time is precious. Get moving."

She was _this close_ to decking _him_, instead of the halls.

Realising that this would only end with her being nestled in Santa's lap, she reluctantly sidled over to him and climbed up. She almost immediately bolted back up when she felt what must have been a candy cane in Santa's pocket. Yes…that's what it was…a candy cane…

She briefly wondered if she could ask Santa to get her a few counselling sessions after this traumatic experience.

"Now my dear, have you been nice this year, or have you been naughty?" His tone was a bit strained as he leaned in to breathe the question against the shell of her ear. She shivered, repulsed by his closeness. However, deciding to make this as difficult as possible for everyone involved, she played along.

Throwing her arms around his neck, and avoiding the candy cane that lurked somewhere in his lap, she tilted her head back and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. Her words came hard and fast in rapid Russian, rattling off the list of her biggest hits since she had made her singing debut on national television aged twelve.

Dean's expression was adorably muddled, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion as he tried to make out her words. Quickly catching on, he nodded knowingly and held up his index finger.

"How silly of me. I sometimes forget that she's simple-minded and can only speak one language. Allow me to translate."

Aliona's head swivelled toward him very slowly, glaring at him. This boy just would not quit.

"She would like a nice warm bed, and a square meal every day," he said solemnly. She noticed that Jessica had wandered over to where Dean was lounging, having snapped a few shots of her and the old man together, the elf's eyes never leaving his face. "Such humble dreams, but like I said, she's a pretty unsophisticated girl."

A few choice curse words slipped out of her mouth, promising that he would pay for this little debacle.

"She wants pussy, too."

Aliona stared at him, unable to control the comical spluttering noise that burst out of her mouth.

"A little pussy to keep her company during those harsh winter months." He was watching her, another smirk twisting his lips, his eyes dancing with delight as he watched her squirm and attempt not to laugh.

Regaining her composure, she looked him dead in the eye and murmured in her mother tongue, "I'd rather have _you_ to keep me company during those harsh winter months."

"She also said that her greatest pleasure would be to come and live with me and my family full time."

Despite the foreign tongue, he seemed to have caught at least some of her meaning. She was impressed by his performance. He never broke character. She wondered if that was an overlap between his professional and personal life.

"Well, dear, I will do my very best to make all of your wishes come true," Santa promised, shifting beneath her. "Every little girl should have a bed, a meal and a kitty cat for company. I'll see what I can do about your wish for a family."

Aliona smiled benignly, watching as Jessica said breathlessly to Dean, "That is _so_ kind of you, helping out a needy girl."

He shrugged humbly, "I could _never_ say no to a needy girl."

Aliona laughed suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Taking a deep breath, she smiled, deciding to end this charade once and for all…by telling the truth. "Santa, you have...treat for me...in pants…?"

The man's eyes widened, taken aback at her calling him out. He quickly shoved her from his lap and kept his head down as he dusted himself off. "Alright, run along little girl. Merry Christmas."

Jessica sighed, reaching into a bucket nearby and thrusting a wrapped gift into Aliona's hands. She waved coyly at Dean as he pushed off from the wall and took Aliona's hand, pulling her toward the entrance. "Thanks, Santa. Thanks, Jessica." He winked at the latter as they slipped out of the castle.

Aliona immediately turned to him and began to use her gift as a weapon, whacking him on the chest and arms. "You jerk! What the fuck was that about?"

"That was about the magic of Christmas, Ali," he replied, easily fending off her blows. He caught her hands in his, trapping them behind her back and pulling her against his chest. "That was a moment that you will hopefully never forget." His whispered words brushed hotly over her neck. She just about managed to suppress a shiver of pleasure. "It's just a shame that Santa didn't get to show you the surprise that he had for you in his pants."

In an attempt to break free from his hold, she brought her foot back and kicked him in the shin. This action threw her off balance, causing her to lurch forward and clock him in the jaw with her forehead in the process.

That seemed to wipe the smug look from his face.

At least for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I neglected to mention perhaps the most appealing thing about our Sex Pest – his devious mind! That mind engineered the Santa scene in Chapter 1, which he seemed to enjoy very much. Luckily, Aliona also has a sharp mind and has some payback coming up…**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, favouriting and following. Please keep the reviews coming - I love reading them!**

**Happy New Year, TSP! Apologies for the delay, I got a little caught up in seasonal celebrations, and FF wouldn't let me publish right away.**

**Please let me know what you think. I put a lot of effort into this chapter, it's a long one (that's what she said!...Sorry). Feedback helps a LOT!**

**P.s. Dean was a total star on Raw last night, wasn't he? But we knew that already. **

* * *

_**Later, Christmas Eve**_

_**Las Vegas, Nevada**_

"So, did that ever seem like a good idea, or were you just confused about how to channel your sexual energy towards me?"

Dean posed this question, while holding an ice-cold slushie cup against his throbbing jaw.

Aliona had the good grace to look sheepish, as she returned to the table with their food. She slid his plate across to him and patted his other hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry, if I ever wanted to channel my sexual energy towards you – you'd know about it. And it would feel_ great_, not painful." She paused for a minute. "Well, maybe a little bit painful, but you'd like it."

"Someone's cocky," he noted, picking up his fork and stabbing at his food.

He glanced up at her when he didn't receive a response, raising his eyebrows, "What?"

"_You're_ calling _me_ cocky…? Were you not back there in Santa's castle? Or have you ever even looked in the mirror?"

"Oh, I've looked in the mirror plenty. And damn, I'm a handsome bastard."

"Well, at least we agree on one of those two things," she muttered, offering him a smirk of her own.

"Continue lying to yourself, babe," he shrugged, munching on his lunch. "Anyway, you know you loved every second on that old man's lap. I had to practically drag you away from your perch. Now, eat your sausage like a good girl."

"What is it with you and sausage? I already had sausage for breakfast. Having the same thing for lunch seems like overkill. It all tastes the same, anyway."

Dean gave her a fierce look of disapproval, looking at her down the length of his nose. "Be quiet, peasant. How can you say such a thing? Every sausage has its own unique taste and flavour. The sausage you had in your mouth this morning was German. The sausage you're wrapping your lips around right now is Italian. Have you ever had Italian sausage before?"

"Summer 2009," she replied breezily.

"Wait, what? I'm going to get that story out of you at some point. _Anyway, _getting back to_ awesome _sausage - rest assured, I'm saving the best for last."

Aliona paused, the meat halfway to her mouth, amused and yet still shocked by this man and his brashness. She couldn't stop herself from smiling. He was adorable in his own extremely self-assured way. He knew what he liked, even if it made him a weirdo.

"Let me guess – American sausage?"

"Bingo! You'll never want any other kind of sausage ever again. The taste will live in your mouth forever."

"Good to know that it'll last longer than chlamydia…" Aliona continued to chew on the meat, noting that he intently watched her jaw working on the tough texture.

"And you'd know this how…?"

"Shut up, Ambrose!"

He removed the cup from his jawline, and gently rubbed the skin there that was covered in a light layer of stubble. "You'll be glad to know that my jaw will be fine. It was touch and go there for a while, but I won't have any need to press charges for assault. Being the good Samaritan that I am, I couldn't let you stew in prison over the holidays…although if I did, you might get that pussy you wanted."

Aliona gawked at him - his audacity really knew no bounds. She inhaled the rest of her lunch and pushed the tray away quickly. "I need to get away from these sharp utensils, because I am getting closer and closer to stabbing you."

"You're so violent," he stated sadly. "It's a shame, a pretty thing like you…by the way, how old _are_ you?"

"Why? Having latent concerns about the little stunt that you pulled?"

He shook his head, "Nope. I've always had a thing for older women, your haggard peasant looks seem to fit right into that."

"Sorry, babe, this peasant is twenty five years old. Too young for such fantasies."

He shook his head wistfully at the wasted dream. Sighing, he retrieved his Christmas list from his pocket and ticked off the 'Santa' box.

"What's next?" She asked, rubbing her full tummy.

"Shopping for gifts," he replied, scribbling incomprehensible little notes in the column of the page. "We'll give it an hour, and have a hundred dollar limit. Here." He took his wallet out and shoved a few bills toward her. "That'll cover it."

Aliona stared at the pile of notes, leaving them where they sat on the Formica tabletop. "What's this?"

"Money for my gift. I'd hate to be without presents on Christmas Day." His eyes remained on the page, still working away on another diabolical scheme, no doubt.

She reached forward and pointedly pushed the bills back toward him. "I'm good, thanks. I'll cover the cost of the present – otherwise, it's not much of a present, is it?"

Still not looking up, he thrust the money back to her side of the table. "Seriously, just take it. It's not a big deal."

"Dean, I've been working since I was a kid. Singing has been quite a lucrative career for me. I can handle a hundred dollar limit." She attempted to be subtle about it, because she really didn't feel comfortable taking anything else from this man (well, with the exception of his penis.) He had already been generous enough.

"Don't care," he declared, giving her a stern look, and nodding his head toward the stack of notes. "Take it."

Sighing dramatically, she scooped it up and stuffed the money into her pocket. "Thanks. What would you like?"

"You have so much to learn," he smiled, shaking his head. "Christmas is all about the element of surprise! So, get me something that I'll remember."

"We just met three hours ago! What if I get you something that you hate?"

"Just avoid Sudoku books, and you'll be alright. Is there anything that I should steer clear of for you?"

"Vodka. I have way too much of that stuff stockpiled in my basement, because Russians are _super_ original when it comes to gifts."

"Got it. I'll meet you back here in an hour. Now, shoo!"

* * *

Aliona ambled through the aisles of a random store, picking up the odd item every now and then, before setting it back on the shelf. She repeated this process for a good fifteen minutes, annoyed at her lack of imagination. Dean was fun and unpredictable, he would probably get her hilarious, unexpected presents. She needed to up her game and get him something equally exciting.

But what would he like?

Taking a moment to clear her mind, she compiled a list of the things that she knew about Dean.

He was a dude.

He was hot.

He had eyes as blue as a wintry blue sky…oh God.

She may as well have spent the hour returning to his apartment, gathering her stuff and running far, far away. Otherwise, she would have to face inevitable embarrassment tomorrow.

A frustrated, whiny noise escaped her, causing a few shoppers to glance at her curiously. She needed to get her shit together. It was Christmas Eve - she could _not_ look like the biggest loon in the whole mall.

Without purpose or provocation, a small and slightly devious scheme began to form in her brain. One hundred dollars would be enough. Rather than one gift, she would get him a few. Aliona didn't know where the ideas came from, but she was damn grateful for them. If things went her way, this could lead to all sorts of interesting places…

* * *

The unexpected plan had taken surprisingly little time to execute successfully. Aliona leisurely wandered back toward their designated meeting spot at the food court. She observed frantic shoppers huff and puff their way through the crowds, determined to grab the last of the bargains on offer. Several sleepy-eyed children dawdled behind their parents, desperate for night to fall and presents to be delivered.

These scenes tugged at her heart, reminding her that her own family was thousands of miles away. There were no new texts in her inbox, no new voicemails. Her father was apparently unmoved by her predicament. But would he really ignore such a thing? Surely they would wonder where she was by now?

She came to a halt in front of an impressive large-scale Nativity scene. Several people ran throughout the set, adjusting the crib, adding more hay and polishing the star that glinted above it all. A sign nearby informed shoppers that a live performance would begin at 3.30pm. The kid in her wanted to stay and watch the donkey. It wasn't Christmas without a cameo by the donkey.

She was about to continue on her way, when a loud screech froze her in place. A woman, who looked to be in her seventies, stood in the centre of the stage, her hand on her heaving chest. "No, no, no! Not today! I _knew_ this would happen!"

Aliona cast her eyes around her. No one else seemed to be paying much attention to the hyperventilating woman. Feeling the Christmas spirit burning bright in her heart, she tentatively stepped forward, approaching with caution.

"Excuse me Ma'am, are you okay?"

The woman's glassy eyes cleared slightly when she caught sight of Aliona. A sudden twinkle appeared in them as she caught her breath.

"No, darlin', I am _not_ okay," she stated adamantly, shaking her head for emphasis. "The Lord has sent me a trial today, to test my faith. On Christmas Eve, of all days!"

"What happened?" Aliona was seriously worried about the woman's blood pressure, warily eyeing the unhealthy shade of scarlet on her cheeks.

"Mary and Joseph are drunk as skunks, that's what happened!"

Aliona crinkled her brow at that particular phrase, vowing to add it to her English language arsenal. "And that's a bad thing…"

"That is a _terrible_ thing! Here we are, on the eve of the birth of Our Lord, and his parents can't even walk in a straight line, let alone walk all around Bethlehem in order to find a place to stay!"

The woman paused momentarily, clutching her hand to her chest and closing her eyes as if to ease some invisible ache.

Dragging in a deep breath, she continued, "And now I don't know what to do. The show is due to start soon. All of the families from our congregation, and some of the lost sheep who wander through this mall, are all expecting a spectacle at three thirty sharp."

Aliona felt helpless as she watched the woman sigh and moan. The lady was around the same age as her own grandmother, a fact that instilled a desire to help her as best she could. She imagined all of the families gathering together on this special day, to celebrate something other than reckless first world materialism. The Christmas spirit had managed to catch hold of her humanity and cling on steadfastly.

"I may be able to be of some assistance," she mused slowly, causing the lady to open her eyes and clasp her hands together eagerly. "I know somebody who would be just _perfect_ for Joseph. And he's a really good Christian boy, too."

* * *

Ten minutes later, having assured the woman that she would return with an ideal Joseph in tow, Aliona strolled up to the food court and threw herself down in a chair. The place was teeming with people, many of whom would be enjoying the Nativity in a little while. She couldn't help but smirk to herself as she imagined the look on Dean's face when he learned of her plan. He wasn't the only one who could cook up a good scheme and carry it out flawlessly. Payback may land her on Santa's naughty list, but it would be completely worth it.

Her eyes fell upon Dean's messy blonde head as he approached from the opposite end of the open-plan area. Even his walk had attitude. He literally swaggered along, confident in the knowledge that he was something special. It was a cruel joke, really. She was spending all of this time with the most delectable man, and yet they would both just be memories to one another come tomorrow…if he would even remember her at all in a few weeks.

He had almost reached her table when he was stopped in his tracks by three girls, all aged around fifteen.

"Oh my God, oh my God, OH EM GEE!" The redheaded one squealed, bobbing up and down on her toes while she gaped at Dean. They had blocked his path, leaving him with no option other than to interact.

The short one with black hair that had a streak of hot pink running through it joined her friend in freaking the fuck out. "It's you! Hi Dean! Oh my God, I just love you _so much_!"

The last member of the Dean Ambrose fan club, a blonde with freckles dappled all over her nose and cheeks, got right down to business. "Can I get a hug? And a kiss? And will you go to prom with me? Here, Alicia, take our picture."

If it hadn't been for the Santa incident earlier, Aliona would almost have felt bad for him. He looked utterly bewildered, unsure of how to react to the tsunami of teenage girl lust that was crashing over him.

The blonde aggressively snuggled up to him, wrapping both arms around his bicep and directing her best duck lips at Alicia and the camera. Dean stared down at her in disbelief, his body obviously tense. Luckily for him, his expression matched the look that she had seen in several of his Google images earlier. At least he appeared to be in character.

The girls took turns in switching positions for photos, while Dean remained stock-still and silent.

Snapping her gum loudly, the blonde turned to face him again, arching an eyebrow, "So, Dean, what do you say? Prom with me in June? I can make it worth your while…"

Aliona's jaw dropped at that line. This child wasn't even legal!

Striding briskly toward the little group, she brushed past the kids and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Dean, I hate to tear you away from your fans, but those puppies won't hug themselves. Sorry ladies, Mr. Ambrose is on a tight schedule today. Happy Holidays!" She yanked him through the food court until they were out of sight of the overly keen jailbait.

"Puppies?" He asked tartly, raising an eyebrow at her as he crossed his arms and looked down at her.

"You're right, what a ridiculous excuse," she smiled. "Because you were doing _so well_ on your own there. Would you prefer if I called them back over? I think we'd all be interested in hearing your response to her offer."

"Fine. Puppies. Whatever. Hey, hey! Back off, peasant! These presents won't be opened until tomorrow."

Aliona smacked him on the chest, wondering at his ability to bring out her violent side. "I just wanted a little peek…"

"Aw, aren't you a cute little thing when you pout."

"So…you'll let me look?"

"Not a chance. Try that pout out on Santa though and I'm sure he'd let you peek…AT HIS DICK."

Her hand was half-raised to hit him again before she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and exercised some self-restraint.

"You're a good person," she finally stated, albeit through gritted teeth. He knew exactly how to push her buttons…in every way.

Dean's puzzled face was pretty damn adorable. "Huh?"

"I have your first surprise waiting for you, but let's drop these gifts off at the car before we delve down that particular rabbit hole."

* * *

Aliona's face was the picture of innocence as she led Dean over to the Nativity scene.

"Ta da!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms wide open when she turned to face him.

He said nothing, choosing to stare at her blankly instead.

"This is your first surprise," she explained, a sweet smile appearing on her lips. "Ms. May, there you are!" The elderly woman walked toward them, her eyes lighting up once she spotted Dean.

"Dean, this is Ms. May. Ms. May, this is Dean - also known as your perfect Joseph."

"My, my, my, what a strapping young man you are. Aliona has told me _all_ about you. We really appreciate you offering your time and talents at such short notice. Jesus loves you, son."

The blank look had now shifted to one of outright confusion. Clearing his throat, Dean shook the hand that was offered to him, "I'm sure that he does. But, uh, Joseph?"

"Why, yes. Aliona told me that you would only be too delighted to play Joseph in our live Nativity performance this afternoon. Now, we need to get you into wardrobe. The costume will require a little alteration, but I'm sure that we can work this out. God loves a trier!" She took hold of his elbow and began to pull him toward the backstage section.

Aliona followed them, attempting to bite back a sly smile and failing miserably.

That smile would soon disappear, as Ms. May stopped suddenly, turning around to face her.

"Don't worry dear, we have your costume all ready, too."

"And what will she be playing? The donkey?" Dean muttered quietly so that only Aliona could hear, his mind reeling from this turn of events. He had been played. That never happened…but there was always still time for smart remarks.

"Only because I have such a nice ass," she muttered back.

Her attention then returned to the woman before her. "My costume?"

"Yes, my dear. When you were telling me how perfect Dean would be for the role of Joseph, I was struck by a message from the Lord. _You_ would be the perfect Mary. A beautiful, young lady like yourself would do a lovely job of paying homage to our Mother. I won't take no for an answer! Come, come!"

Aliona's mouth opened and closed helplessly, confused as to how her plan had gone so awry. This hadn't happened with Dean's scheme. She had never done anything like this before, but couldn't even manage to pull it off with a healthy dose of beginner's luck.

Dean smiled widely, letting out a contented sigh as he slung his arm around her shoulders. "If I have to trek across a desert on a donkey, then I'm glad I'm doing it with you. Isn't this the _best_?"

Well, he certainly seemed quite chipper about all of this.

Ten minutes later, Aliona stepped out of the makeshift changing room and stood before Ms. May's scrutinising gaze. The old woman fussed at her hair, ensuring that it framed her face under the white headscarf, and pulled the belt at her waist tighter. The blue dress that she wore featured a large bump, which Aliona was particularly delighted about…

She guffawed loudly when Dean emerged, wearing a dull brown shirt and pants, a white towel over his head. "Looking good!"

"When did you get so fat? Surely that's grounds for divorce right there," he shot back.

"This kid definitely isn't yours, I would never sleep with someone who has such awful fashion sense."

"Of course the kid isn't mine - you clearly cheated on me with some anonymous dude and then needed a cover story!"

Ms. May continued to pull at their costumes, tucking here, pinning there. She was either oblivious or completely disinterested in their trading barbs, humming Christmas carols merrily to herself as she worked.

"Ms. May?" Aliona's soft voice brought the woman back to the moment. "Thank you so much for this opportunity. Would it be possible for me to say a few words of praise when we get out there?"

"Oh, my dear, that would be wonderful! I feel so blessed to have encountered two young people of such outstanding faith today. Alright, you both look delightful. Now, all that you have to do is follow the narrator's cues. The animals are all specially trained, so I wouldn't expect too much trouble from them. Jonah, the baby playing our Lord, is a joy, too. Go out there and enjoy this moment, your presence here is a divine gift! It was all meant to be." She smiled broadly, hugging them both before hurrying off to get the rest of the cast into position.

"C'mon chubby, mush mush," Dean said, pushing her toward the Nativity scene.

A large crowd could be heard beyond the curtain that now concealed the stage, as they took their places. Dean stood behind her and cupped her newly swollen belly, squeezing it for kicks.

"_This_ was your idea of revenge?" He asked casually, still playing with the stuffing. "How did you not figure out Ms. May's game plan? You thought you were in control of this, and yet look, you just got played by a sweet old lady. Amateur mistake."

"I will admit that this hasn't quite turned out as I had planned," she responded thoughtfully, relaxing into his chest. "But never underestimate me, Ambrose. The fat lady hasn't sung just yet."

"Oh, you were planning on singing, too?"

A sharp elbow to his ribs cut his laughter short.

"Ladies, gentlemen and little ones, you are so very welcome to our Church's performance of the live Nativity scene."

Ms. May's voice boomed out from beyond the curtain, as she welcomed families, talked them through the programme and wished everyone a Merry Christmas. Aliona played with her hair as the woman spoke, thinking again about the random sequence of events that had linked up in her life that day. She had to admit that she was enjoying every second of it. Her typical day was extremely regimented - every activity was planned to the second, and every objective clearly and strictly set out. To let the world flow around her and just accept whatever it chose to throw her way was something that she could get used to.

And then there was her partner in crime in all of this madness. Dean Ambrose was a hot and chaotic hurricane of a man. Once he came into your life, you could see nothing else but him. He was an overall sensory experience. You literally felt the impact of his presence in your life. She glanced over at him, watching as he pulled a cigarette and lighter from his pants, preparing to light up.

"Put that away!" She hissed.

"Ha, never heard that before," he smirked, the cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Think of the baby!"

"Ugh, fine. You're such a virgin about these things."

That earned him an eye roll.

The curtain was soon drawn back, to reveal the beautifully decorated set. The narrator led them through their paces, until they found themselves settled in the stable, nearing the end of the piece. Aliona was surprised by how well Dean had played along with it all, he seemed completely at home in this setting. Her intention had been to freak him out and unnerve him, as he had done with her earlier that day. It seemed that she hadn't succeeded…yet.

They soon found themselves the proud parents of a bouncing baby boy, as Jonah made his entrance. Aliona was glad to be rid of the mass of stuffing that had been shoved up her dress. After several minutes of cooing at her stage-son, she handed him over to Dean, out of sheer exhaustion. Baby Jonah was a beast, his weight proving to be too much for her. Those bulging biceps that Dean possessed would be put to good use, carrying around the cute, if hefty, little boy.

When the story had concluded, the narrator announced that Mary had a special message for the audience.

She smiled as she took a microphone from a stage-hand, trying to look as saintly as possible.

"It has been an absolute pleasure to be involved in this production, and to have met so many lovely people. I really believe that Christmas Eve is a magical day, one that is just full of surprises. So, with that in mind, I have to mention another surprise that was truly inspired by the divine. Dean here - you know him as Joseph - is a really good person. He's kind, and generous and believes in making the world a better place for other people. Being part of the Nativity has meant a lot to him in particular, as he really relates to the story. Mary, especially."

She paused for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. Dean had slanted his eyes down at her, a quizzical look on his face as he gently bounced Jonah. She had the full attention of the crowd, who listened carefully, expectant faces awaiting the rest of her speech.

"He has a lot of strongly held beliefs, as a born again virgin." An incredulous splutter burst forth from the man standing beside her, which she chose to ignore.

"One of those beliefs is to always take care of his fellow human beings, which he demonstrated once again, when he took on the part of Joseph at the last minute. As if that wasn't enough already, he has also decided to donate FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS to the Church and their overseas missions programme!"

Gasps of awe ran through the audience, the loudest of all emanating from the mouth of Ms. May. She looked absolutely shell-shocked, eventually staggering over to Dean, grabbing him around the waist and hugging with all of her might.

The sea of people before them rose en masse, clapping and cheering uproariously. Several handkerchiefs were being dabbed at eyes, smiles on all of the faces before them.

Aliona finally turned to catch Dean's reaction, delighted when she saw the stunned expression on his handsome features. He was distractedly patting Ms. May on the back, having been struck dumb by her announcement. He really wasn't the type of man to mince his words, so to see him speechless was a true treat…and a real Christmas miracle.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Ms. May sobbed, her voice somewhat muffled as her face was buried in his chest.

"You're…welcome," he replied robotically.

After a few seconds, his eyes landed on Aliona's face, narrowing immediately when he spotted her smug smile. "You will pay for this," he mouthed, his eyes holding a glint that told her he was a man of his word.

Aliona shrugged innocently when his expression became positively murderous, allowing herself to be pulled into the crowd for photo opportunities with several small children. No doubt her father would be shocked to find these images online tomorrow, but it was his own fault for failing to contact her. She wouldn't have found herself in this position, if he had bothered to help her. Ultimately though, she had no complaints about her life at that very moment. This had already been the best Christmas Eve ever.

As Ms. May pulled away, baby Jonah decided to reclaim the limelight, yawning widely before promptly throwing up all over Dean's back.

* * *

"I don't know why I haven't thrown you out on the streets yet, peasant," Dean spit out, jiggling his keys in the lock. "Now, get in there before I change my mind."

"Oh, don't be so sore, boo boo," she teased, dragging her bags into the apartment. "You know you felt the elusive Christmas spirit that you're always talking about. Besides, what kind of man would turn a poor Russian girl out on the streets on Christmas Eve? Certainly not a man who saved a little old lady's Christmas production, and _certainly_ not a man who just donated a shitload of cash to her Church's charitable work."

She turned to find that he had stripped to the waist, and dropped his spit-stained shirt in the hamper. Aliona gulped at the sight of his tanned, smooth chest. It was a fucking work of art, so broad and defined and very kissable. He disappeared into his room for a moment, merely making her mouth water when she got a look at his back, before he emerged wearing a fresh shirt.

"I'm glad you brought that up," he remarked, putting his hands on his hips.

Aliona reluctantly dragged her eyes away from those hips and made herself look up at his face. His baby blues seared into her, his mouth pursed in thought as he assessed her.

"Where the hell did you get five hundred dollars from?"

"Well, technically, I only had to pony up four hundred dollars. The rest was from the stack that you gave me for gifts."

"Where did you get four hundred from, then?" His eyes were practically boring a hole through her skull. She found it difficult not to squirm under his scrutiny. "…And does this mean that I'm not getting gifts tomorrow?"

The worry melted from her face, replaced instead by a wide grin.

"So, _that's_ what you were worried about. Like I said, singing has been good to me. I wanted to put some good out into the world in your name. As much as you make me want to throttle you, I really am thankful that you took me in tonight…and made my first time with Santa so memorable."

"Yeah, yeah, it's an emotional thing, I get it. Now, am I getting any damn presents or not?"

Aliona rolled her eyes at his impatience. Of course he would trample all over the one moment when she was trying to be serious, if a little bit sentimental. It kind of only added to his charm, though.

"Yes, you'll get your damn presents!"

Dean's body relaxed noticeably. He brought his hands up to readjust his neck and jaw, letting out little grunts as he did so.

"Alright. Phew. You had me worried there for a little bit. Your scheming this afternoon was truly terrible, I was concerned that you had fucked up gifts, too. I have been a very good boy this year. I deserve a lot of stuff."

Aliona snorted, rolling her eyes once again. "I can think of a few things that you deserve…but I don't want to ruin our day. What have you got planned for us next? What other Christmassy things could we possibly have left to do?"

Dean retrieved his list from his pants, ticking off a few things as he examined it carefully.

"I ordered the food already, it should have been delivered while we were out. Good 'oul Mrs. Pucher let the delivery guys in. Decorations should be in the kitchen, too. I'm not much of a technology guy, but these apps are kickass. They make everything so…easy."

His phone instantly came to life on that last word. He tugged it out of his pocket and threw a glance at the screen. Aliona couldn't help but notice the frown that immediately appeared, accompanied by an irritated look that shaded his eyes.

She felt uncomfortable, watching such an unguarded reaction, and quickly pulled out her own phone to distract her. That had been weird. Curiosity gnawed at her. Who had that been? And why had his reaction been so intense?

Her gut squeezed tightly upon seeing that she had no new text messages. Her father's indifference was seriously starting to bother her. It was Christmas Eve, a time to be spent with loved ones, and yet, the stranger she was imposing upon was showing more concern for her enjoyment of the holiday than her own flesh and blood.

_Beep!_

Aliona's heart leapt at the sound of the text arriving. She stabbed at the screen before having a chance to even read the sender's name. She _knew_ he would come through for her. She was his firstborn daughter, the one he had guided and mentored from a young age, masterminding her entire career.

'Dear Ms. Tereshkova, Your flight AA1240 to Chicago O'Hare has been cancelled. Please consult your booking account on our website, or contact a booking agent for more information. We apologize for any inconvenience that this has caused."

Great. Her airline apparently seemed to care more about her than her own father.

A flush of anger ran through her. She was pissed that she consistently worked her ass off, all to no avail. Nobody appreciated her. Nobody cared that she wouldn't be there for Christmas Day. How fucked up was that?

Dean's large hand appeared palm up in front of her. Her eyes crept up the length of his arm, before she gave him a confused look.

He kept his hand where it was, looking pointedly at it before beckoning for her to stand up and walk with him. She did so, a slight tint of embarrassment on her cheeks. He had unfortunately managed to catch her own unguarded moment.

He gently pulled her into the kitchen, pushing her over to the island and sitting her down. The countertop was covered with boxes containing strings of multi-coloured lights, shiny baubles, lengths of tinsel and small figurines.

"You've really gone all out on this, haven't you?" She said, hoping to avoid any discussion of what had transpired seconds before.

"Go big, or go home," he shrugged, returning to the counter with two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. "Now, I haven't forgotten my promise. We need to loosen you up, starting right now."

"I can barely keep up with you while I'm sober, how am I supposed to manage it when I'm buzzed?"

"I don't know, but it'll be fun to watch," he said with a wolfish grin, pushing a glass of the clear liquid toward her. "To Christmas Eve and hot little Russian peasants."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully, raising her glass to his, "To Christmas Eve and cocky American beefcakes."

"I knew you had noticed my sausage, but I never knew you had noticed my beef!" He crowed triumphantly.

Aliona knocked back the shot, feeling the burn run down the length of her throat with some sense of satisfaction. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and reached for the bottle.

"To Santa the Lech and Baby Jonah!"

"Little bastard," Dean muttered, downing his second glass.

He disappeared momentarily, shifting something across the apartment noisily, before returning to the kitchen. Aliona pulled his head down to her height, and plucked a few pine needles from his hair.

"Time to decorate?"

"Time to decorate," he confirmed, pulling her up from her seat. "I'm going to make us a quick dinner while you get started."

She picked up a few of the smaller boxes, making her way to the door, turning to ask him, "Will I be getting American sausage for dinner?" Her accompanying suggestive look almost made Dean groan out loud.

"Maybe, maybe not. In the meantime, you can suck on this."

He placed a red and white striped candy cane on top of the pile of boxes that she held in her arms, swatting her butt as she harrumphed and marched out to the living room.

* * *

"It's the most wonderful time of the yeaaaaaar!" Aliona had almost reached the drunken promised land. She was thoroughly enjoying her current tipsy state, as she skipped around the Christmas tree, draping trails of lights over the branches of the tree in her wake.

Dean sat on the living room carpet dressed in a navy shirt and a soft pair of flannel pyjama bottoms, watching her while lazily sipping on a can of Heineken. His gaze blazed a path over her body as she reappeared from behind the massive tree on each lap, taking in her toned legs and pert little breasts in her camisole and shorts.

After wolfing down a microwave meal (without sausage, sadly), they had decided to slip into more comfortable clothes, watching as darkness fell and the strip came to life twenty seven floors below.

They had continued to alternatively gulp and sip at various alcoholic beverages, both discovering that the other was a heavyweight when it came to drinking. Admittedly, Dean's size meant that he would outlast her, but she was sure as hell giving him a run for his money.

Dean was wondering what her nipples tasted like, when his phone beeped loudly beside him. He snatched it up, feeling aggrieved at having been torn away from such pleasant musings.

_What the fuck, man? I know I said you go out to Vegas and get wild for Christmas – but what the hell is THIS?_

Dean frowned at the message from Seth, his stable-mate at work and one of his best friends. He had provided a link to a dirt sheet website, which detailed all of their afternoon high jinks at the Nativity performance. The headline screamed his apparent born-again virgin status. He didn't even want to look at the comments, once he spotted grainy phone quality pictures of him dressed as Jesus' step-dad.

"Ohhhh, you're _dead_," he called out to the brunette as she completed her final lap. "You're _fucking dead._"

"What are you talking about?" Aliona bent down to pick up a box of baubles, pausing to look at him.

"The whole world thinks I'm a fucking pansy thanks to the little stunt that you pulled earlier," he growled. "What have you done, Ali? Think of all the pussies that are weeping right now, thinking that they don't stand a chance of being fucked by me anymore."

She tried hard not to laugh. She really did. Years of singing had afforded her an impressive level of control over her diaphragm, but seeing Dean glaring at her and talking about pussies was just too much. A soft snigger initially caught her in its grip, tugging and yanking at her chest until she collapsed in a heap on the carpet, clutching at her belly.

"You think this is funny, huh?" He demanded, pulling her toward him by her legs as she rolled around on her back. He smoothly straddled her, still feeling her tummy quake beneath his thighs. He leaned down and planted his hands on either side of her head, spearing her with a strict look.

Aliona reached up to wipe away the tears that had begun to slide down her cheeks. It felt so good to laugh. It felt so good to be here with Dean. It felt even better when she realised that he was straddling her waist and looming over her.

Warmed up by the last tumbler of brandy that she had knocked back, her hands reached out to touch his forearms, her fingers sliding along the silky smooth skin. She then proceeded to trace the veins that bulged in his biceps, resting her hands there and giving the hard muscles a light squeeze.

Her eyes wandered up to his, noting that her body felt even warmer once she caught sight of his stern stare.

"I think it's _hilarious_," she murmured, one hand remaining on his bicep, the other travelling up to push his hair out of his eyes. "We should toast to all of the forlorn pussy. It is a terrible Christmas tragedy."

"Stop that," he snapped, attempting to remain firm. "This is _very_ serious. You may have singlehandedly managed to damage my sex life beyond repair. This could be catastrophic. I may never know the taste of another pussy ever again."

Aliona frowned thoughtfully, her mind slightly muddled from hours of drinking, but still very much aware of how horny she felt right then.

"That's not true. You can always taste my…"

Her softly spoken words were cut off by the sound of a cluster of screeching violins. It was the theme from Psycho. Her hands dropped down from his body, plugging her ears as the noise continued.

Dean realised that he had been holding his breath, as he leaned back and grabbed his phone. He groaned and threw his head back in frustration upon seeing the caller's name on screen, before fluidly standing up and walking away toward the kitchen.

Aliona sighed, a small shiver running through her, feeling all too aware of the loss of his body heat. She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, cursing the caller for their horrific sense of timing. She had almost offered herself to him on a silver platter. That behaviour was completely out of character for her, but she didn't care. She _wanted_ to experience this man. It didn't matter that they would never see one another again after tomorrow. She just wanted to feel _something_, and Dean Ambrose was the right man for the job. Why shouldn't she treat herself to that Christmas present?

She watched him pace back and forth at the kitchen door, his back turned to her, speaking in a hushed tone. Whoever this was, they had better been calling to inform Dean of the end of the world, or else they would be receiving seriously bad karma from all of the mental curses that Aliona was throwing their way.

Dean's body language was tense as he hissed out his words, only a few of which she managed to catch. "Stop fucking calling, I told you that I was busy."

Those stood out loud and clear.

She reached for her own phone again, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs and act normally. She scrolled through the texts, all of which were from acquaintances, wishing her a Merry Christmas. People that she barely knew were able to contact her, but not her own family. That really said it all.

She was pissed off at her family, the mysterious caller and herself. Her family had deserted her. Fine. The person at the other end of the line had deprived her of a chance to get laid. That was not fine. She lived a life where she felt the need to beg a stranger to fuck her because she was so deprived of genuine human touch. That last part was just pathetic.

Deciding to keep herself busy, she continued to attach decorations to the tree and take deep slugs from the bottle of brandy on the coffee table. When the boxes had been emptied of their contents, she eased down on to the couch and admired her handiwork. Not bad for a horny, lonely lush.

Dean re-appeared moments later, pocketing his phone and sliding down beside her.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly, picking up his can and nursing it as they sat there quietly.

"You did a great job, I'd say we're all set for Christmas now. There's just one more thing…"

"What's that?" She asked, avoiding his eyes and trying not to let her sullen mood slip through her tone.

"We need to turn the lights on, of course," he said, standing and pulling her up with him. His jovial tone was an attempt at breaking some of the tension that had inexplicably filled the air. He knew he had been a jackass for answering that call, particularly when he had her pinned beneath him. And then there had been that look in her big brown eyes…not to mention the words that she didn't get the chance to finish… But, answering had been a necessary evil. He needed to get that particular monkey off his back before he could get back to enjoying Christmas Eve with his unexpected guest.

Dean poured her another tumbler of brandy, handing it to her and toasting with his can as he flicked the power switch. The lights blinked brightly into life, illuminating the darkened room, and causing a small smile to crack on Aliona's face. Maybe it was all of the alcohol, but it was awesome to see this hastily decorated tree, standing as a testament to her weird and wonderful day with Dean.

"It looks awesome," he said sincerely, smiling at her. "Do you want to watch a movie now? I really want to push you over the edge of the Christmas cliff."

She laughed a little, nodding and settling down as he flipped through his Netflix account. They spent the next few hours watching the Home Alone films, continuing to swill down copious amounts of alcohol.

It was four am by the time they managed to drag themselves up from the couch, stretching and yawning as they did so.

"Time for sleep," he announced. "Santa should be here any second, and he can't catch you awake. Let's get your butt to bed."

"I'm already at my bed," she pointed out, jerking her head in the direction of the couch. Even through her boozy haze, she knew that much.

"Don't be ridiculous," he admonished her, pulling her over to his bedroom. "You can sleep in my bed. You've had a long day."

"And…where will you sleep?" She paused at the doorway, turning to look up at him.

"In my bed," he said self-assuredly, nudging her into the room. He pulled the duvet of the large king-sized bed back, and patted the smooth white sheets that lay beneath. They looked so damn tempting to her exhausted body and mind. But something held her back.

Could she really spend the night in the same bed with Dean and not act on her urges?

"C'monnnn," he teased her gently, slipping his shirt off and discarding it on the floor. "You know you want to…"

She did. She _really_ wanted to.

"Ali, get your ass over here before I throw you into this damn bed." He was quickly losing patience, seeing her standing there, so weighed down with fatigue and hesitating for no real reason.

The lure of the soft, cushiony bed and the man beside it proved to be too much. Sighing, she sidled over to the bed and let her weary bones fall down, her body immediately being swallowed up by the comfy mattress.

"Mmmm, this is heavenly," she breathed out, her eyelids already starting to droop once her head hit the pillow.

"I'm with you on that one," he whispered, watching as the bone-tired woman beside him drifted off to sleep.

Dean stretched out on his back, his hands behind his head on his pillow. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to ignore the desire to reach out and touch her.

_So…what now?_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews! They make me very happy. I have to knuckle down and start studying, but would like to keep going with this fic - reviews are definitely one way of inspiring me to do that…just sayin'… :D**

**A **_**lot**_** happens on Christmas Day between Aliona and Dean, so I have split it into a few different chapters. This is Part I – Morning. **

**I hope you like it. **

**Now, how do you say 'sexual tension' in Russian…?**

* * *

_**Late Morning, Christmas Day**_

_**Las Vegas, Nevada**_

"Ali, wake up!"

Who was calling her name? He had a gorgeous, raspy voice, whoever he was.

"Seriously, wake up! You don't wanna miss this."

She rolled over on to her back, smiling to herself as she stretched luxuriously. Damn, this bed was comfortable. She pulled the duvet snugly around her body, burrowing down as much as she could, refusing to open her eyes and greet the day just yet.

"Hey! Pay attention to me! It's _snowing_!"

Mr. Bedroom Voice needed to chill out….wait a second, did he say that it was snowing? And she was still in Vegas? And oh yeah, that was Dean Ambrose's voice – her Christmas angel. Ha, he would probably pull a wrestling move on her for describing him as that.

She was about to open her eyes when she felt a warm, wet substance land on her face. Her hand reached up instinctively to touch it, noting its distinctive scent.

Her eyes flew open in surprise, taking in the white stuff that covered her fingers. She watched the thick gloop slowly slide down the length of her hand.

Dean was kneeling by her head, looking down at her with a huge grin on his face.

"I _tried_ to warn you," he shrugged, his hand moving to rub the sticky goo into her face. Aliona batted at his hands, a shiver of horror running through her.

She stared up at him, mouth agape.

"Did you just come on my face?"

"Yes."

The silence in the room was palpable as she let that sink in. Shock caused a temporary paralysis to bleed into her limbs.

"_No_, I didn't come on your face! Jesus Christ, what do you take me for? One of your Russian peasant men? Does that happen to you a lot? Is that a normal occurrence for you on Christmas Day - waking up to a man coming on your face? Take your mind out of the gutter, wench."

Aliona let out a sigh of relief. She was comforted by his response (kinda...), but also slightly embarrassed by her assumption.

"Then what _is_ this stuff? And why did you feel the need to spray it on my face?"

"I toyed with the idea of giving you a facial for Christmas…" he mused slyly. "But then I thought that I could give you something that you're equally familiar with – snow!"

She sat upright, grabbing a handful of his hair and giving it a sharp tug for his suggestive remark.

"Ow! If you're going to get handsy in the morning, at least make it fun."

Aliona loosened her grip and settled cross-legged on top of the duvet, darting her tongue out to lick at the white gloop.

"Tastes good," she noted, sucking the remainder from her fingers. "Even if it does look like spunk."

Dean paid particular attention to her little pink tongue lapping up the substance. God damn, if that wasn't a good visual to wake up to. Merry Christmas to him.

"It should, it's cream. Or snow, for our purposes today."

"Why is it warm?" She asked, stretching out her legs and rolling her neck to release some of the tension that had snuck into her body while she slept.

"I forgot to put it in the refrigerator last night. My bad. Still works, though." He pulled out a can that he had concealed behind his back, and shot another thick stream of cream on to her face.

"You troll!" She spluttered indignantly, wiping it away and lunging for him. Unfortunately for her, Dean had quick reflexes. He ninja-rolled off the bed and stood with his hands on his hips by the door, the familiar smirk pulling at his lips.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Aliona assessed him carefully, knowing that he was ready for another quick strike. The seconds dragged on, his body still primed for the expected lightning attack.

It never came.

Instead, she chose a much more effective method to take down her enemy: the element of surprise.

Ever so slowly, Aliona rose to her feet, carefully balancing herself while standing on the mattress. Dean's expression remained neutral as he kept his gaze trained on her, still prepared to defend himself at a moment's notice.

Her fingers crept to the edge of her camisole, before whipping the material up to reveal her chest in one fluid motion.

She was still wearing her bra from the night before, but the unexpected flash of skin caught Dean off guard.

Taking advantage of this, Aliona lithely sprang from the bed, yanked the can from his hands and spurted a generous pile of cream on to his face, rubbing it in as he had done to her.

"Not the first time you've had something wet and sticky on your face, is it, Ambrose?" She taunted, adding a thick layer to his bare chest. Deciding not to push her luck, she then made for the living room, knowing that he would soon be in hot pursuit.

She leaped up on to the couch, turning to face him as he approached, his shock having worn off pretty quickly.

"You have no idea what you just started," he said, his tone deep and threatening. His blue eyes narrowed as they watched her. He was secretly pleased that she had been so brazen, and had now given him a reason to seek revenge.

Dean shoved his hand into his basketball shorts, causing Aliona to arch an eyebrow at him.

"And just what exactly are you going to do? Flash me back? Use your dick as a sword?"

Her jibes only gave him more fuel for his fire. His hand re-emerged, revealing a second can of cream.

"Oh."

"What's wrong, peasant? Fresh out of smack talk?"

A full, thick stream of cream landed on his abs in response.

The audacity of this woman! Standing there in her little shorts and top, having flashed him, and then used his own weapons against him. He was determined to make her regret such insolence.

"Eat _this_, Russia!" He yelled,rushing forward and pressing the spray mechanism at the same time. Massive dollops of cream flew everywhere, hitting everything…except his intended target. Aliona had bounced on to a nearby chair, where she balanced precariously on the armrest.

"Oh, it's like that, is it? The tired, old American diatribe against my beautiful motherland? Why do you hate us so much? All of the movies – the Russians are always the bad guys. Are you threatened? Is that it? I thought that such talk was beneath you." She shook her head sadly, the can firmly secured in her hand, her finger twitching to release the next wave of attack.

"The only thing that's going to be beneath me is _you,_" he promised, all dark eyes, tousled hair and tensed firm muscle.

Aliona's eyes lit up. If only she could have _him_ for Christmas. He looked unbelievably sexy in the morning, and his deep voice resonated even lower, vibrating with a gravelly tone.

She arched an eyebrow at him, "Promise?"

Dean was about to reply, when Aliona suddenly wrinkled her nose in confusion, momentarily taken away from their banter.

"Hang on, why are you wearing shorts? You were wearing pjs last night." Realisation dawned in her large brown eyes, surprise opening her mouth into an O of understanding. The chocolate brown depths slid up to his baby blues, offering sympathy. "Did somebody have an _accident?_" The last part came out in a loud stage whisper, as she pointed at his crotch.

Their eyes were drawn to his groin at the same time, both of them noticing that Dean was sporting an impressive piece of wood.

The spark of lust continued to burn bright in her eyes, as she watched the large bulge with keen interest.

"Oh yeah, that," he said, shrugging. "It's the _morning_."

He edged slightly to the side, intending to use his erection as a means of diversion.

"_Somebody_ was out for the count, so I started preparing dinner and then went to the gym downstairs. Had to get a sweat in. This," he gestured to his bare torso, "is the second part of your present – I know that you've imagined me shirtless and sweaty a million times in the past twenty four hours. I would only do this for you, babe." He leaned forward and winked at her, "You're _welcome._"

Aliona should have known better.

She should have seen it coming.

But in her defence, she just couldn't tear her eyes away from that very distracting bulge.

Dean thrust his can forward, shooting the cream indiscriminately, landing a few good shots.

A strangled scream and several Russian curses fell from her mouth, her hands instantly going to the affected body parts, wiping at her chest and legs. She shook her head, trying to clear the lusty fog that had settled in her mind. The thick cream was making her skin sticky. She couldn't help but think that some people would pay good money to watch this.

Glancing up, she saw the look of pride on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest - providing yet _another_ distraction by emphasising the definition there.

This. Meant. War.

Tossing strategy and tactics to the wind, Aliona jumped off the armrest and clung to Dean's neck, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. Her position gave her a slight height advantage, allowing her to shift and catch him in a headlock. She pushed his head forward into her chest and sprayed with abandon, until his honey blonde hair was smothered in thick, tacky goop. "Eat _this_, Ambrose! _Eat it_!"

"Is this supposed to be punishment?" His muffled voice asked, his lips moving against the delicate skin of her décolletage as he spoke.

She growled and pulled his head back to glare at him.

Big mistake.

He suddenly took them to the floor, trying to grab hold of her arms as she thrashed about beneath him.

His hands landed on her wrists, squeezing them until the can fell from her grip. "Fuck!" She exhaled loudly, her chest heaving from her exertions. She watched the can roll away, pouting her rosy bottom lip. She cut her eyes back up to him, tilting her head to the side.

"No," he stated firmly. "Forget the puppy dog eyes. They won't work on me. I'm a cold hearted bastard."

She grunted out her frustration, jerking her body sharply in the hope of dislodging him. She was almost able to slip out, before he shifted his weight, and pinned her fully to the floor. This was the exact position that they had found themselves in the night before, but her wrists were now held down.

Dean took a moment to enjoy the feel of her warm, lithe body beneath his as she caught her breath. He could get used to having her writhing underneath him. Moaning his name. Begging for release.

He emerged from these thoughts when she ceased her struggle. Dean pulled both of her wrists above her head, securing them with one of his hands. He reached down with his other hand and picked up his can, goading her as he waved it in front of her unsmiling face.

"Now, I want you to think carefully about your options here," he said slowly, resting the can right by her head. "You can give up and admit that I'm the man, or you can take a face full of cream. I know that you're more accustomed to the latter, and have an impressive amount of experience with it – hey! No biting! Now, take a minute to think it through."

Aliona looked up, drawing attention to her hands, where her middle finger was raised and pointing directly at Dean.

His teeth gleamed as he smiled evilly, "Alright, if that's how you want to play it – then so be it." He moved to pick up the can, pausing when she said, "No! Wait, wait! That was a force of habit. Give me a second."

He regarded her with displeasure**,** before sighing and sitting back on his heels, removing some of his weight from her stomach.

Before he could realise what she was doing, she brought her right leg up and smacked him between the shoulder blades with her foot. He jumped in surprise and twisted his upper body around, which allowed her to forcefully shove him away and climb out from under him. She scrabbled for her discarded can, and swung around to face him, arm raised and ready.

Dean scowled at her, rubbing his shoulder agitatedly. "Son of a bitch!"

Aliona couldn't help but grin at the grumpy puppy expression that he wore, and his scratchy, irritated tone. She adopted a fencing pose, and pressed down firmly on the tab to release a string of cream…except that nothing came out.

She stared at the can, dumbfounded, shaking it vigourously in the hope that it would come back to life. "Shit!"

Dean's smug smile said it all. He swaggered over to her, plucked the empty can from her fingers, tossed it away and then once again took her to the floor. He pulled her back against his chest, catching her in a headlock with one arm while the other held his own can in front of her face. For extra security, he wrapped his legs around her waist. She flailed pathetically – she was well and truly caught. His firm grip left no room for escape.

"Now," he whispered in her ear, "would you like me to repeat your options?"

She shook her head, wriggling her hips desperately in a last-ditch attempt to avoid being creamed.

"That's it, darlin', keep moving like that against me," he breathed out, with a lecherous chuckle.

She immediately stilled, slapping his thigh reproachfully.

"Fine," she sighed, letting her body go limp. "I give. You're the man."

"Louder," he prompted, his voice letting her know just how much he was enjoying this. "Say it with some _conviction._"

"You're the man! So manly, so hairy. You win."

Aliona had assumed that he would release her then, but Dean wasn't quite finished just yet.

"Tell me that you like my cream." He was clearly _loving_ this.

"I like your cream," she said, resigned to her fate.

"I know that you do, peasant," he murmured, shaking the can. "And, as I am in the business of making peasant girl's dreams come true, I have no other choice but to…" He trailed off, gleefully watching Aliona jump as he shoved the can down the front of her shirt and squirted.

"That was for your display of public indecency earlier. Learn some self-respect!"

The gloopy substance dripping down her chest gave her the heebie-jeebies. "I tap out! I tap out!" She yelped, thrashing about in order to end the slimy hell.

Dean smiled at her use of that phrase, but ultimately ignored her pleas, only letting go once the can had been emptied and began to spit air.

"There's nothing quite like homemade snow," he said happily, as he picked himself up from the floor and sauntered off toward the kitchen to check on the food in the oven, humming 'Let It Snow,' all the while.

"I hate you!"

"Love you too, sweetheart!"

* * *

"I'm such a mess," Aliona panted a few moments later as she lay on the living room floor, her hand resting on her heaving, sticky chest.

"Ain't that the truth," he noted wryly as he re-joined her on the floor, expertly blocking the inevitable smack that his comment provoked.

"Cute," she said sarcastically, tilting her head to face him, her eyes narrowed. "If I am a mess, than it's all your fault. You got me drunk last night, and now look at me!"

"You smell like a small brewery," he affirmed, nodding his head. "One with low-paid workers and questionable health and safety practices."

Yes, he was a smart ass. _And_ a pain in the ass. But…he _was _funny.

She smiled at him, "I'll give you that one. After getting me drunk, you then decided to wake me up on Christmas Day, by kneeling over me and shooting sticky gunk all over my face. Is that a normal occurrence for _you_?"

"Nope, darlin', you were my first…on Christmas morning," he said smugly, stretching his hands over his head, elongating his big body, the smooth skin pulling tight over the heavy muscle in his arms and chest.

"And hopefully your last," she muttered to herself, eyeing up the light dusting of hair on his chest. "You didn't have a love rug in the photos that I saw of you online – how come you're a hairy beast now?"

He snorted loudly, running his hands through his mussed-up locks.

"My boss likes us to be hairless, it's just an aesthetic thing. With my gear at the moment, I don't have to shave my chest _all_ of the time, but I gotta keep my pits in shape. I've been lazy the past few weeks, hence the manly chest that you see before you. But it's okay, because chicks seem to dig it."

He winked at her, lazily stroking the dark blonde hair covering his pecs, which was now matted after being thoroughly doused with cream.

Aliona wanted to lick it off.

There was also a dollop of cream just below his right ear that was _begging_ for her attention…

He sat upright suddenly, clapping his hands together. "It's time for presents!"

"Nooooo," she groaned, throwing her forearm over her eyes. "Where do you get your energy from? We did so much yesterday, and then all of the drinking, and_ then_ our battle. It's time for bed again."

He crawled over to her, pulled her arm back and charmed her with another of his adorable smiles. "I would happily climb back into bed with a sticky girl who likes to get handsey…if she didn't have brandy breath. Now, get your butt up, brush your teeth and then you'll be showered with presents by a handsome stud."

He leaned down, pulling her hair back from her face and slowly followed a line of cream up the length of her neck with his tongue. He smacked his lips together, eyes glinting at her, "Mmmm, delicious."

"Fine, Mr. Modesty," she sighed, shivering ever so slightly at the feel of his warm, wet tongue on her sensitive skin. Could he please stop being be so sexy? That would make this whole situation easier to deal with. And why did the universe insist on engineering ways for them to get up close and personal, but then…nothing?

Although she acted as if his suggestion was a chore, she had to admit that she was loving every second that she got with him…even if all it ever amounted to was flirting.

But, in the unlikely event of anything ever happening between them, she knew that those dimples could convince her to do just about _anything_.

And what fun that would be.

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, I wonder what they got each other for Christmas?**

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews, follows and favourites - they keep me perked up during study season!**

**As previously mentioned, these two are quite busy on Christmas Day, so this chapter is Part II – Afternoon. **

**Please review and let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_**Afternoon, Christmas Day**_

_**Las Vegas, Nevada**_

Having brushed her teeth, Aliona took a few extra minutes in the bathroom to remove last night's make-up. Her beauty team would have murdered her if they knew that she had slept in make-up, and foregone her normal cleansing routine. Whoops.

She shrugged and wiped away the last remnants of her panda eyes, before moisturising thoroughly.

Waking up tasting like alcohol, and looking like a messy party girl, was a whole new experience for her…one that she didn't hate.

She ran a brush through her hair, then threw it up in an effortlessly effortful messy bun. She dabbed some concealer beneath her eyes, opened them up with mascara, and smoothed on lip balm.

Yes, she was still covered in dried cream, but that didn't mean that she couldn't look decent. Taking in her appearance one more time, she reached into her camisole and pushed her sticky breasts together, before smoothing her top back into place.

There. Everything looked perky.

She told herself that this was a force of habit, that she was programmed to ensure that she looked her best, as someone who lived their life in the public eye. It had nothing to do with the hot man who sat impatiently by the Christmas tree, waiting for her.

_Sure…_

* * *

Dean glanced up at her as she joined him, lifting his head from his phone.

"Aww, you cleaned up. That's a shame, I kinda liked the trashy look."

Before she had a chance to come up with a snarky reply, he had already moved on.

"Hey, you were headed to Chicago yesterday, right?" He made space so that she could sit down.

"Yeah, then London, then St. Petersburg. Why?"

"I have a show there tomorrow night, I'm leaving in the morning. What's your flight situation like now? Did your Dad call up the airline?"

Aliona's eyes fell to the floor, her fingers fidgeting with a bauble dangling off of a branch in front of them. Her tummy clenched unexpectedly at this piece of news.

"Yeah, he left me a voicemail. He's going to email the details to me. What airline are you flying with?" She tried to sound as casual as possible with her lie.

"United. Flight is at ten am. You?" His gaze was trained on the cell screen, as he blew up little rockets that zoomed across the display.

She swallowed with effort. "I'm with United, too. Who knows, maybe we'll end up on the same plane."

They would. She would make sure of it.

"Stranger things have happened," he replied breezily. "How long is your layover at O'Hare?"

Her fingers suddenly caught the bauble, killing its momentum mid-spin. She hadn't expected any follow up questions.

"…I'm not sure. Dad just told me to be at the airport for eight am. I'll check the details later."

"Cool. We can grab a cab together."

"Sounds good."

Fuck, this was awkward. She didn't like lying to Dean, after all that he had done for her, but she didn't want to further burden him with her problems either.

Her father hadn't contacted her. There hadn't been a voicemail, or even a measly text. She couldn't understand his continued silence. She would just have to find her way home on her own, and made a mental note to book that flight the second that she was out of Dean's sight.

"Now, for the moment we have been waiting for," he declared, mimicking a ring announcer by drawing out the words in his gorgeously gruff voice. "Time for a little peasant girl's dreams to come true!"

He reached beneath the tree and pulled out a badly wrapped present, complete with a paper bow stuck haphazardly on top. She smiled at his awkward effort as she accepted it and placed it in her lap.

"Okay, tell me about the inspiration for this present," she said, running her fingers over the garishly bright design on the wrapping paper.

"Ah, ah, ah," he replied, wagging his finger at her. "That's not how this works. You rip it open first, then I document your reaction for posterity, and _then_ I tell you why I got it for you."

"You're such a Christmas Nazi," she muttered, pulling at the paper, eager to see exactly what came to Dean's mind when he thought of her. "Wow."

Aliona pulled the mass of green wool from its paper cocoon, holding it out in front of her, a bewildered look on her face.

_Snap!_

She turned to find Dean's phone in her face, a grin curving along his lush lips. "Well, what do you think?"

Aliona's attention returned to the sweater in her hands, noting that it was about two sizes too big for her, and featured a large, misshapen reindeeron the front. "It's…a big surprise. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it," he smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Ever since I met you, a whole twenty four hours ago, I have been trying to figure you out. I put a lot of thought into your presents. This first one is verrry important, and I want you to listen carefully, okay?"

His expression was so serious, that Aliona couldn't help but wonder about this gift. Any trace of a smile had disappeared from his face. She gave him her full attention, and waited for the apparently momentous rationale behind the sweater.

Dean's hand remained on her shoulder, as he leaned forward slightly, almost conspiratorially. His blue eyes bore into hers. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face. He glanced down at her lips, running his tongue along his own pouty bottom lip.

Raising his eyebrows, he whispered, "You need to stop dressing so slutty."

He continued to gaze at her, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Aliona's breath had caught as he had moved ever closer to her. She had been so sure that he was about to kiss her. Ugh, he was _such_ a pussy tease!

"No more prancing around in your bra and panties, or these little shorts." He tugged on said shorts, giving her a pointed look.

Her jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, but only managed to push out noises of disbelief.

"It's unbecoming behaviour for a woman who played Mary in the mall's Nativity. Alongside Dean Ambrose, of all people. I have a clean-cut rep to maintain. You need to cover up, and learn some self-respect. Otherwise, before you know it, you'll be posing for smut magazines like Playboy."

Aliona snorted, rolling her eyes. "We're negotiating a deal with Russian Playboy at the moment," she said coolly.

Dean's eyes popped open. "You're better than that, Ali. But…if you really, truly cannot suppress your naturally slutty ways, then I volunteer to have final say on your outfit choices for the shoot. Just to keep you on the straight and narrow."

"There wouldn't _be_ any outfits, Dean," she stated, her eyes narrowed.

"My offer still stands," he replied. "But bear in mind that you can start afresh right now and turn over a new leaf. Go on, try it on for size."

"You're such a hypocrite, your cock was practically hanging out of your trunks in those photos," she spat out. "I could definitely see an outline."

He looked at her from beneath his eyelashes, "You've been thinking about my cock?"

Biting back her disappointment at not being kissed, she harrumped at his teasing as she stood and tugged the lumpy sweater over her head, easing it down her body. She had been right, it was far too big for her…but that seemed to be the point. The material was swimming on her, the woolen hemline hitting her knees, the oversized arms drooping down by her sides.

"Don't you look cute," he smirked. "What do you think?"

"It's…warm," she said, at a loss for any other kind description. It was quite possibly the ugliest piece of clothing that she had ever subjected her body to.

"I'm so glad you like it. It was knitted by children in Cambodia to raise money for their school."

_Oh shit._

Now she felt like an awful person. Dean had gone to the effort of buying her a present, she should be a little more grateful. A gift that was benefitting children and their education. She needed to sort her priorities out.

"I love it," she declared, injecting some enthusiasm into her voice. "Thank you. It's a gift that keeps on giving, that's really sweet of you."

Dean smiled smugly, "You'd believe anything I tell you, wouldn't you? It was knitted by a bunch of hipster kids who were being ironic. They charged me an obscene amount for it, but I just _had_ to get it for you. Your face alone was worth the hefty price tag."

He reached over and shoved his hand up the sweater, brushing across her inner thighs in the process, as he rooted around in the swathe of material for something. His fingers crept along her tummy, causing a heat that was impossible to ignore to build up in her belly.

She swallowed hard, watching the concentration on his face, before he clasped something and gave it a flick. The reindeer's nose began flashing, with the multi-coloured lights reflecting on his face as he kneeled in front of her.

"You asshole," she said, shaking her head and smiling. He looked so very pleased with himself, doing a little dance with his arms and shoulders as the lights continued to dazzle. She clenched her thighs together**, **in an attempt to kill the torturous burn that was growing in her core.

"Aha, I got a smile!" He said triumphantly. "But that smile might fade with what I'm about to say next, darlin'."

Aliona threw him a questioning look as she sat down, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I got one, too. I hate to upstage you, but I make this sweater look even better." He pulled a matching reindeer jumper from a bag and threw it on. Aliona silently protested, disappointed that he had covered up that beautiful chest.

"Refurbishments must have been expensive," she noted, glancing at the ceiling.

"Huh?"

"It must have been expensive to remodel this place, so that you could actually fit your own big, slutty head through the door."

He shrugged casually, "I got a good deal."

Dean made a big production of looking underneath the tree, his hands grasping at thin air, before he turned to look at her sadly.

"Where are my presents? You _promised_ that a charity wouldn't benefit instead of me. You fucking _promised._"

"Calm down," she soothed, holding her hands up. "Give me a second."

Aliona went to the hallway cupboard, where she had stowed Dean's presents yesterday while he was making dinner. Instead of attempting to wrap the gifts herself (and inevitably botching any attempt), she had thrown a few extra Benjamins at the staff in the various stores, who were more than happy to take care of that necessary evil.

But she did love Dean's sloppy efforts. It was awfully cute that he had gone to such trouble for her.

His face, already lit up by the flashing lights on their jumpers, wore an expression of utter happiness as he watched her drag a sack full of gifts over to him. She flopped back down and reached inside the bag, carefully selecting the first one and handing it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, before holding it up to his ear and shaking it. No sound escaped through the secure gift-wrap.

Aliona prepared her own phone for his reaction, watching him on the screen as he ripped through the paper.

Dean's face was priceless as he gawked at the assortment of Christmas themed presents in front of him. There was the stack of gingerbread people covered in brightly coloured icing, the chunky woolen scarf with snowflakes knitted into the design, a red velvet Santa hat, a headband complete with reindeer antlers…and her favorite – a bright red Rudolph nose.

She took the antlers from the stash and planted them firmly on his head, before snapping the nose in place over his own. She flipped the little button on the side, and the nose promptly glowed to life.

_Snap!_

"I think this should be your Christmas card picture next year," she said, turning the screen to show him. He looked like an adorably grumpy reindeer-man hybrid.

"I look like Christmas threw up all over me," he noted, his lip curling up in distaste.

"You're right. The antlers and nose were a step too far, because _obviously_, the sweater was a classy choice."

She leaned forward and gave him a peck on his bright red nose. "I've heard it's lucky to kiss Rudolph's nose."

"I have something else for you to kiss…it's lucky too." He waggled his eyebrows at her, only making him look even more ridiculous in his get-up.

"Stop ruining innocent Christmas characters!" She yelled in jest, recoiling in mock disgust. "First, you corrupted Santa Claus, and now his trusty reindeer? Are there any depths that you won't sink to?"

"Nope." He shook his head, causing the bells attached to the antlers to jingle merrily. She couldn't hide her smile at that image.

"But I _suppose_ I should say thank you. Thank you for proving that, no matter what I wear, I'm still a stud."

Running her eyes over him, decked out in every Christmas item imaginable, she had to agree. The boy could make _anything_ look good. Or _nothing_…

Dean thrust his next gift into her hands. This one was much smaller than the first, a compact, hard square.

She imitated him, shaking it against her ear, hearing nothing from inside its depths. Getting into the swing of things, Aliona ripped open the paper and found a little black box in her hand. Weird. It was noticeably less ostentatious than his first gift.

She flipped the top open, her eyes glued to the sparkling contents of the box. "This is beautiful! It's so thoughtful. And…not what I expected from a sex pest."

Dean laughed at her reaction. "Sex pest? That's a new one. It's cool, babe - I know you want me. All in good time, my little peasant." He winked at her, loving the effect that he had on this chick. "So, does that mean you like it?"

She carefully fished the crystal studded belly ring out of the box, holding it up to the light. It was in the shape of a treble clef. He really _had_ been paying attention during their time together.

"I fucking_ love_ it," she confirmed, reaching down to remove the ring that she currently wore, replacing it with Dean's offering.

"I couldn't help but notice that you had that piercing yesterday when you stripped in my living room. And you're a 'singer,'" He used air-quotes as he said that last part, "so I thought it made sense."

"Stripped? You mean when you tore my coat off like a horny teenager? I'm surprised that you noticed my piercing, you seemed to be awfully distracted by…other things."

For the second time in twenty four hours, she had made him blush. And wasn't that the most fun that you could have with your clothes on.

"You've got some nice titties, and I'm a guy," he shrugged, gently tugging on the ring, causing her to playfully shove him away. "It looks good on you."

_Okaaaaay, am I reading too much into this? Or would he legitimately fuck me before we part ways in the morning?_

Dean interrupted Aliona's thoughts, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. "Alright, next gift. And it better be good."

She bit her lower lip, contemplating which gift she should give him. "Alright, I'm giving you this one next because it's kind of random. I want to get it out of the way, now that you just gave me such a wonderful present, and I feel like a bad Christmas elf all of a sudden. First you open up your home to me, then you pop my Santa cherry, and _now_ you're spanking me at gift giving. It's not fair."

Dean stopped listening after she forced the image of him spanking that pert little ass of hers into his mind. He accepted the small bag that she handed him, still aroused by the thought, and amused by her unique grasp of the English language. She was normally spot on grammatically, but her little slip-ups sure were entertaining…and food for thought.

He snapped back to attention when he got his paws on his second gift. Aliona held her camera up again, feeling slightly uncomfortable about the next one. It had seemed funny at the time. Now she would find out if Dean thought so too…

"You got me a bottle of lube?" He stared at her incredulously.

It had only been a tad awkward to ask the store assistant to wrap a bottle of lube…

"We both know that I could only ever have one use for that…and I wouldn't be alone." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

_Snap!_

"I was struck by divine inspiration on my way back to meet you after my run-in with Ms. May. I knew that I just _had_ to tell the world all about you being a born-again virgin. Honestly, I knew that it would be a tough transition from your current lifestyle, but that ultimately, your fangirls would respect your decision. So, this is a little somethin' somethin' to keep you occupied now that you will be living life like a monk." She smiled at him patronisingly, pinching his cheek for good measure.

"Ooh, it's flavoured," he grinned, reading the details on the bottle, seemingly un-phased by her comments.

Aliona's smile faded. "You weren't supposed to enjoy this gift as much as you clearly are."

He placed a hand on his chest in shock. "Where is your Christmas spirit? If you're jealous of all the fun that I'll have with this bad boy, all you have to do is ask, and I'd be happy to involve you in my fun."

Aliona stared at him intensely, biting down on her lower lip. The sexual tension was becoming almost too much to bear.

Why was he saying these things, if he had no intention of following through on them?

Not caring anymore, she lay down on the floor for a moment, kicked her legs about and let out a few screams of frustration. She closed her eyes, filled her lungs with a satisfyingly deep breath, and then pulled herself back up to a sitting position.

Dean watched her with raised eyebrows.

She turned to smile at him. "All done. Next present?"

Deciding to let it go…for now…he handed her the next gift.

She squeezed the paper, noting that the contents felt soft. She pulled out a black garment, holding it at arms length.

"The Shield? Is that a condom manufacturer?"

Dean groaned loudly and smacked a palm against his forehead. "I sometimes forget that you come from a backwards country, and then you say stuff like that and it all comes screaming back. The Shield is my faction at work – it's me and two other guys, Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns."

"But why are you called The Shield?" She persisted, pushing her arms through the sleeves of the hoodie. Once again, it was a few sizes too big for her, but it smelled really good.

"Because we're badasses, that's all you need to know," he snapped. "Someone get this girl to YouTube…or better yet, Tumblr."

"I like it," she said, pulling the material tighter around her body. "And it smells _really_ good."

"It's one of mine," he smirked. "You're breathing in one hundred percent genuine Dean Ambrose pheromones. Don't you fucking dare sell it on eBay. The fangirls would probably try and clone me or something if they got their hands on it."

"I feel honoured," she said solemnly. "Thank you. I'll never wash it…just like you clearly haven't."

Dean stared at her in shock, quickly recovering and delivering a solid noogie to her skull.

"Ow," she whined, after he had released her. "That was unnecessary. It almost makes me reconsider whether you deserve another gift…"

He dived on her in the next breath, his arms wrapped around her waist, his head buried against her chest. "Nooooo! It's Christmas! I'm a good boy!"

She arched an eyebrow down at him. "Hmm, a likely story…but okay."

"Yay!"

"I'll be right back," she said, getting up and feeling momentarily taken aback at the weight of the over-sized clothes that now covered her body. She walked to the front door, twisting the handle so that it wouldn't lock behind her, and left the apartment. Dean frowned, confused at her sudden disappearance.

* * *

Aliona returned five minutes later, the sound of soft grunting announcing her arrival before she re-appeared, kicking the door open.

"Close your eyes!"

"Stranger danger!" He yelled back.

"Dean, close your damn eyes!"

"Fine," he huffed, a little smile playing along his lips. "They're closed."

He could hear her getting closer, dragging something along the soft carpet.

"You can open your eyes."

He did as he was instructed, noticing that she was sitting on something in front of him. The baggy material of her extra layers swam around her, concealing her resting place.

"I googled you more than once yesterday," she confessed, pointing a warning finger at him, and cutting off his expected lecherous comment. "The internet tells me that you're a sloppy drunk, but I bore witness to that already." She smirked at him, intent on making up lost ground in the creep stakes.

"With all of that in mind, Jason – he's that guy at the desk downstairs, really nice man – agreed to store this present for me. Ta da!" She jumped up from her perch, revealing a tray of twenty four cans of Heineken.

"One for every hour that you've known me," she grinned. "I know you weren't expecting to have company this Christmas, so I thought this would help dull any pain that I may have caused."

Dean was rendered speechless. That was a pretty fucking cool gift. He tore open the plastic that covered the tray, grabbed two cans and handed her one, popping the tab on his own.

"You're the best stray I've ever brought home," he toasted, raising his can in the air.

"Oh, we're starting again?" She asked, tipping her own against his. "To the most perverted reindeer in all of Vegas."

They sipped on their drinks quietly, savouring the bitter aftertaste.

"Ahhhh," he sighed contentedly. "I'm done. I have a kickass sweater, a Russian mail order bride and _this_. I don't need anything else."

"Alright," she shrugged. "I'll just donate the rest of your gifts to charity. Maybe Ms. May might find some use for them…"

"On second thoughts, you have put me through quite a bit, so I'll keep them."

"Grinch. Gift number four, please!"

Dean picked up another small, box-shaped present and laid it in the palm of her hand. "Go ahead, open it."

Aliona raised her eyebrows as she accepted it.

_That's it? No innuendo? No jokes at my expense? Curious…_

She peeled back the paper carefully, noting that this one appeared to have been wrapped by a competent human being in possession of opposable thumbs.

Beneath the gift wrap lay another black box.

She let out a low whistle. "Wow, you weren't kidding about the Russian mail order bride thing, were you?" A delicate wrought silver ring, with a single jewel embedded in the centre, lay on a velvet cushion inside.

"Aren't you going to at least get down on one knee?" she joked.

"It's not that sort of a ring. It's a promise ring."

"So…you promise to give me a green card eventually?"

"You wish," he said smugly. "No, it all relates back to gift number one – to stop being so slutty. Ms. May inspired me yesterday, as did your little impromptu speech. It occurred to me – why should I be the one to have all the fun as a born-again virgin? You should come along for the ride, too. Perhaps that was a poor choice of words, because once you put this ring on, you won't be riding _anything _until you're married."

He eased the ring from its soft confines, took hold of the middle finger on her right hand, and slipped it on.

"There! You just vowed to keep all peen away from your pussy." He cupped his hand around his ear, listening for something.

"What do you hear?" she asked, staring down at her hand.

"Well, when my status was announced yesterday, pussies everywhere wept," he explained. "I was just checking if any wangs are currently weeping at the loss of your ladybox. Hmmm…nope."

"I will have you know that my ladybox is highly sought after," she stated haughtily.

He snorted. "Ha, I doubt it. Considering your propensity for violence, it might be a while before you snag a husband and get to play 'hide the sausage' again."

Deciding to catch him by surprise, she leaned over, ran her fingers through his messy mop of hair, and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, it's really beautiful," she said softly, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I now feel as pure as the freshly driven snow."

He watched her carefully before answering, "Well, I'm glad that I could help you see the error of your slutty ways."

Sigh. He was such a gorgeous weirdo.

"Out of curiosity, how many presents did you get me?"

He did a quick mental count, still recovering from her unexpected move. "Uh, six. Why?"

"I got six, too. I should probably be worried that we're so alike…anyway, this is gift number four. Why don't we save the last two until after dinner? Make the fun last a while longer."

"Cool with me," he nodded.

"Alright, here's number four." She passed a festive red envelope to him.

He tore into it and opened up the card inside. He frowned as he read the words, before quirking an eyebrow at her. "Care to explain?"

She beamed at him. "Of course. I know that you're a wrestler, and that can be tough on your body. I thought it would be a good idea for you to get a massage, to ease all of the ache and pain in your muscles. They're great ways to relax, and keep you healthy, too."

Dean rubbed his eyes, as he attempted to subdue the smile that was threatening to cross his lips.

"Where did you get this gift card?"

"At a massage parlour in the mall, they were really helpful. I explained the situation, and the lady said that they would definitely be able to do something to help you out when the tension got to be too much."

"Oh, I bet they would," he murmured, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked over at her. "Ali…this is a gift card for an…intimate massage."

"Yeah, I know," she replied. "I know that it can be kind of awkward to take your clothes off and have a stranger massage you, but you wear practically nothing when you're at work, so it shouldn't be a big deal."

He bit back a laugh. She really wasn't getting this.

He took both of her hands in his, trying to get his point across. "It says that it's a gift card for an erotic massage."

She shook her head firmly. "No, it says _exotic._"

"Ali, you got me a hand job for Christmas!"

Her eyes widened in shock as she removed her own hands from his grip, and grabbed the card. "Oh my God! I didn't read this, I just took the lady's word for it. Oh, fuck!" She cringed in horror, a blush creeping up her neck.

He ruffled her hair playfully, chuckling at her embarrassment. For all of her sex appeal, she still had a touch of innocence about her. He liked it.

"It's for a brothel located on the outskirts of town," he said, pointing out the address.

She smacked her forehead in annoyance. "No wonder she said that it was for specialised, non-advertised services. I thought she was just really good at customer service."

"Oh, I bet she's _wonderful_ at giving customers a good service," he drawled, still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I am the worst gift-giver in the whole _world_," she declared, putting her head in her hands. Her cheeks were still burning, unable to comprehend that she had offered him such a crass gift, even if it was legal in the state of Nevada.

"_Or_ the best," he laughed. "Don't worry about it. It's a great present. One that I certainly won't forget in a hurry."

Aliona remained inconsolable, refusing to look up at him.

"Hey, I know something that will cheer you up," he said, snapping his fingers.

"Nothing will cheer me up," she moaned, burrowing her head into her hoodie.

She heard him get up and walk in the direction of his bedroom. He returned thirty seconds later, pausing to stand in front of her.

"Ali, look up."

"No," she mumbled. "I appreciate the effort Dean, but I am beyond mortified right now."

"Just look up," he insisted. "Please. For me?"

Oh, he just had to play _that_ card. He knew that she was grateful for all of his help, and couldn't refuse him that one little thing.

She slowly lifted her head, her gaze running over his feet, up the length of his legs, until she realised what he was wearing…which was nothing. Well, with the exception of a carefully positioned Santa Claus hat.

Her mood instantly brightened as laughter took over her entire body, causing her to shake with the effort.

Dean grinned down at her, one hand on his hip, the other holding the hat in place at the base of his shaft.

"Merry Christmas, Ali," he said. "Thank you for joining me for the holidays, and all the awesome gifts."

"Oh, this is the best present _ever_," she breathed out through her giggles. Seeing Dean Ambrose in (almost) his birthday suit definitely ranked in the top five moments of her life. He stood there, completely comfortable with his nakedness, still looking like a cocky asshole. An infinitely sexy and very do-able asshole.

A beep sounded from the kitchen, alerting them that the food would soon be ready.

"Girl, go get your ass in the shower - and be snappy about it," he ordered. "I refuse to have a filthy woman anywhere near my dinner table. I have certain standards of class to maintain in my home."

"You say this as you're standing there with a Santa hat on your cock," she muttered, dragging herself to her feet.

"Yes," he confirmed, his face serious. "Yes I do."

"Alright, I won't be long," she said, grabbing her stuff from the suitcase in the hallway.

As she was about to walk into the bathroom, he called out, "Hey, Ali?"

"Yeah?" She asked, turning around to face him - only to find him doing 'the helicopter' with his penis, causing the fluffy white bobble on the hat to bounce around frantically.

"What?" He shrugged, thrusting his hips as the hat swung about. "I'm just being the best sex pest that I can be."

* * *

Aliona stepped out of the shower, reaching for a large fluffy white towel as she did so. She wrapped the warm material around her, relishing its softness as it fit against her slick skin. Flipping the fan on, she wiped a hand across the steamed up mirror, and assessed her appearance.

Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the room, and her wet lashes fanned out, framing her brown eyes quite nicely. She smiled. If anyone could see her right now, they would see a very happy girl. It was true, she was so content in that moment. Dean and his spontaneity had a significant part to play in that.

Regardless of what happened from here on out, she would leave with wonderful memories and a big stash of fun presents. It was more than she had ever got during any of the Christmas holidays that she had spent with her family. A twinge of sadness ran through her at the thought. The fact that she would even think such a thing was truly depressing.

Remembering that she had more pressing matters to take care of, she plucked her phone from her toiletries bag and brought up the United airlines website.

_Alright. I can do this. _

She would never admit it to Dean, but this would be the first flight that she had ever booked. Having had a career since she was a child, these little practicalities had escaped her attention. Everything had always been handled on her behalf, whether it was flights, hotel room bookings or even what she would wear that day. Her father had micro-management down to a fine art.

Secretly, she felt like a freak for not having acquired such basic skills. It left her out of the loop when it came to her peer group, and she was already way out there on her own due to her career and life experience, or lack thereof. She had been home-schooled, hadn't attended college, and hadn't had a chance to enjoy the freedom that the latter typically offered. She lived in an apartment that was attached to her family home, so in theory she had some form of freedom, but in reality, it was limited.

Her eyes ran through the instructions, filling in the required blanks as she went, reading every word of the fine print that was tucked at the bottom of the screen. She grabbed her passport from where she had stowed it in her bag and tapped out the passport number, issue and expiry dates. Aliona threw in her credit card details, one of the small measures of independence that she clung on to, and finally pressed 'Purchase.'

_All done. Phew. _

A warm glow pulsed through her body, pleased that she had managed to book a seat on the same flight as Dean. Opportunities to prove that she was a capable adult were few and far between, so that had felt fucking awesome. She also wouldn't have to admit to Dean that she had lied to him earlier. They could ride to the airport together tomorrow morning, hang out before their flight, and then say their goodbyes in Chicago – all without him being any the wiser about the reality of the situation.

_Bang!_

She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she jumped when a knock sounded on the door. Pulling the towel tighter around her, she poked her head out, and was greeted by Dean's face.

"Ahhh!" She squealed loudly, taken aback at his close proximity. He looked like a disembodied head floating in the air as he peered at her from around the corner.

"You scare easy," he smirked. "I'll have to remember that."

She opened the door wider, not bothered by her state of undress, and swatted him on the side of his head. "Was there a point to you interrupting my personal time?"

He scratched his head. "Personal time?" Realisation dawned in his eyes, "Were you jerking off in my shower? That is…_filthy._ Some might call that an injustice."

"I will neither confirm nor deny that highly defamatory accusation," she shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "And do girls jerk off? I would personally call it jilling off. It sounds prettier, and let's face it, we're just prettier than you are. I don't understand why it would be an injustice…"

"I kinda like the idea of you…jilling off in my shower," he said thoughtfully, stepping forward and leaning against the doorframe, still wearing his Christmas sweater.

Aliona snapped her fingers in front of his face, killing the faraway look that had misted across his eyes.

"The reason you knocked on the door so rudely?"

"Oh, right," he said, clearing his throat. "Aliona, I have had a lot of fun with you. I want to keep that fun going, and ensure we have a night that neither of us will forget for a long, long time."

Dean paused, his eyes sliding down to the top of her towel, and lingering there.

"I have a proposition for you."

* * *

**A/N: I know what some (or all) of you are waiting for…and trust me, it's coming. In ways that I hadn't even imagined when I first started this fic. The character of Dean Ambrose really has a mind of his own, he's so…**_**creative.**_

**Now that all of the formalities have been taken care of, I can confirm that good things come to a girl who waits…your patience will pay off in the next chapter, I promise!**

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following and adding this story to your favourites!**

**There's some SMUT in this chapter…**

* * *

_**Evening, Christmas Day**_

_**Las Vegas, Nevada**_

Aliona gulped audibly. What did he mean by 'proposition,' exactly? She took a deep breath and nodded at him to continue.

Dean's eyes roamed back up to her face, watching her intently. "Dinner is almost ready, and I want it to be a fun affair. With that in mind, how about we pick an outfit for the other to wear? You can rummage through my closet and I'll wear whatever you pick. Are you in?"

Aliona stuck out her lower lip as she considered his proposal. So, he hadn't suggested that he ravish her on the dining room table…but this could still be fun. "I'm in."

"Good," he smiled, leaning toward her. "Be creative."

"Would you expect anything less from an artist?" She teased. "My suitcases are in the hallway cupboard. Knock yourself out."

"Oh, I've already picked yours out," he replied, barging into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

Her eyes widened a little. But then again, was she really surprised at the audacity of this man?

_Hmm…nope._

"You went through my clothes? You were _that_ confident that I would agree?"

"Well, _duh_," he said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "I see how you look at me. And let's be honest sweetcheeks, what girl would pass up the opportunity to play dress up with me? Think of me as your very own Ken doll."

She rolled her eyes. Damn, he was cocky. "Well, do _not_ think of me as your very own blow up doll."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head at her. "Maybe I should have got you an English phrase book for Christmas."

Aliona looked at him blankly, before shrugging and gathering up her things. "Just wait until you see what I pick for you," she promised, turning on her heel and flouncing over to his bedroom.

* * *

Aliona stepped into Dean's room, dried off, and quickly changed into a pair of sweats and a camisole. She opened his closet, eyeing up the assortment of clothes. The rail was loaded down with jeans and t-shirts, with the odd formal dress shirt and pair of slacks thrown in.

She pursed her lips as she flicked through them, feeling uninspired. Dean would look sexy as hell in anything, but she wanted to make a special effort for Christmas dinner.

She reached further into the wardrobe, her hands landing on a second rail that was hidden behind the first. She ducked beneath the swathes of denim and cotton, her eyes lighting up as she saw the contents of the next rail.

_Ohhhhh, yes. He'll be the most delicious thing at the table._

Aliona felt something beneath her bare feet, and glanced down to see what it was. A frisson of smugness ran through her when she crouched down and picked it up. Oh, this was too good.

She took hold of the hanger and carefully eased back out into the room, leaving her choice of outfit draped across Dean's bed. The thrum of the shower water cut out then, letting her know that he was finished.

She wandered back out to the living room, holding the newly discovered items behind her back. The bathroom door whooshed open, causing tendrils of steam to billow out and lap at the ceiling.

Dean swaggered out, rubbing a towel casually through his hair, another one hanging dangerously low on his hips. He stopped short when he saw Aliona standing there, his hand still raised to his hair, and arched a curious eyebrow at her.

"Come to perve?"

"Oh, I would never," she stated earnestly. "I'm rejecting my naturally slutty ways, remember? And it's all thanks to you."

She smiled at him languidly. "You're a good man, so generous and committed to living life in accordance with your moral compass. You would never…for example…peruse and abuse SMUT MAGAZINES!" She flung several glossy porno mags at him, catching him by surprise as they smacked against his chest before falling to the floor.

He stared down at them, looking like a naughty little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or, in this case, a naughty big boy who had spent too much time with his hand on his dick.

"I forgot about them," he stated casually. "I bought them as reading material for guests when they're on the can."

Aliona remained silent, staring him down.

"I buy them for the articles!" He protested, before shaking his wet hair back and forth like a dog attempting to get dry. His hair naturally went back to its rightful place, hanging down over his eyes.

She was momentarily distracted by the process, watching in awe, "That's all it takes to create the famous Dean Ambrose messy curls?"

"Yup," he replied. "A quick shake and I'm good to go. Chicks love it like this. I slicked it back for a while, but there was uproar online. What can I say? I give my fans what they want."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she said, feigning a yawn. "Your fans are fifteen year old girls who don't know any better. Pervert."

Dean stared at her stonily, looking utterly unimpressed. He stalked over to her, leaned down until his mouth was level with her ear, and lightly sank his teeth into her earlobe.

"Ow!" She yelled, more out of surprise than discomfort. In fact, that little gesture had probably contributed to the ruination of the fresh pair of panties that she had just put on. "What was that for?"

"I'm not used to someone sassing back," he confessed, moving back a little.

"So you _bite_ when someone does?!"

He shrugged, looking sheepish. "First time someone ever sassed back. Besides, they might have an excuse for not knowing any better, bur what's yours? Aliona Teriyaki is _alllll_ about the Ambrose."

"Teriyaki?" She rolled her eyes, miffed at his weak attempt to pronounce her name. "Did your parents never teach you about interacting with other kids? That you couldn't always be right?"

"I'm an only child," he said, throwing one of the towels into the hamper. "And I have yet to be wrong." He flashed a cocky grin at her, all too aware of his power to charm and disarm.

"I'll teach you a lesson," she promised, crossing her arms over her chest. "When I'm ready. But first, we eat. I left your outfit on your bed. Where's mine?"

Dean continued to smile at her, a playful look in his eyes. "I left it in there." He jerked his thumb back toward the bathroom. "See you in a minute, babe." He sauntered over to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

Shaking her head, Aliona entered the bathroom, glancing around for her clothes. She almost didn't notice them, but when she did, she immediately turned on her heel, stormed over to his room and burst in without knocking.

"Oh, _hell_ no," she swore, holding up Dean's choice.

"I am _not_ wearing this to dinner. What were you thinking?" She held up a finger as he opened his mouth to respond, "Wait. Don't answer that. Look at what I chose for you – it's classy and appropriate for a sit-down dinner."

Dean was in the process of tugging on a pair of black dress pants, to go with the black shirt, jacket and tie that she had picked for him. He hadn't been surprised by her choice – if only she knew that Twitter had practically melted down a mere two weeks ago when he had worn it on TV. He knew that he looked _great_ in his suit.

"You agreed to this," he reminded her, inching toward her. "You said you wanted to have fun, so I'm giving you fun. _I'm_ not kicking up a fuss about what you want me to wear."

Aliona kicked herself for adding the shirt, jacket and tie to the mix. He looked glorious in just those pants. She could imagine digging her fingers into those lean hips of his as he drilled into her…

"That's because I chose something that you would look good in! And has a lot of material…"

"Psh, I ain't buying whatever it is that you're selling. You're trying to tell me that you _won't_ look good in that? Even a blind man would beg to differ. Now, quit with the tempter tantrum and get changed."

"I thought you said that I dress too slutty, that I needed to learn some self-respect."

"Yeah, but then I remembered that you can't change a person, so I'm now actively encouraging you to be yourself," he smirked. "Now run along and slut it up."

She looked at him aghast. "No! I'm not wearing this…not unless I can pick something else for you."

Dean looked at her for a moment, weighing up the idea. "Alright, fine. Have at it. You're lucky that I'm such a nice guy."

"Great," she smiled. "You're going to look _so good_ in a pair of my bra and panties."

He stared at her incredulously, his mouth dropping open.

"Only joking," she said sweetly, patting him on the cheek as she dove into his wardrobe again. "You're lucky that I'm such a nice girl."

Aliona realised that her second choice had been obvious all along, and threw it at him before returning to the bathroom. She quickly curled her hair, applied some soft sultry make-up, and changed into the outfit that he had selected for her.

Damn. How could this _thing_ between them _not _trigger an inferno tonight? His choice for her had made it blatantly clear that he wanted this fun to involve something more, maybe even some light play. Would an uninterested straight dude really pick a pair of black lacy boyshorts that moulded to her butt as dinner wear? And then there was the top…or what constituted a top.

Dean had clearly enjoyed himself, digging about amongst her video shoot outfits. This particular top had been nixed as being too racy for her American debut. It consisted of several strings of pink and white pearls of varying lengths that draped over her chest and dipped down to just above her navel. It was essentially a layered necklace. If a woman with a bigger chest had worn it, she would have had zero support. Luckily for Aliona, her perky little breasts didn't need much support.

If Dean thought that he was going to witness multiple nip-slips tonight, then he was very much mistaken. Aliona knew every trick of the trade, and carefully applied double-sided tape to ensure that the pearls concealed the small amount of skin that they covered – namely, her nipples and the front of her breasts. That still left her with a naked back, abdomen and some serious cleavage.

_Oh well, this is what he asked for._

She popped her head around the bathroom door, and found the living room deserted. Moving quietly, she walked to the dining room, where she spotted Dean setting the table. Aliona had to stop herself from groaning aloud as she watched his firm ass, savouring how the soft, faded denim cupped it lovingly. Her eyes had been drawn to that ass in jeans yesterday, so it only made sense for her to admire it some more, now that Dean had given her the opportunity.

His upper body was bare. There was just something about this man in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans that really did something to her. It was a shame to waste the suit, but if she had to reveal so much, then he would have to do the same. She had considered making him wear a pair of those tiny trunks that she had seen online, but she hadn't been able to find any in his closet.

"What a good little house-husband you are."

Dean whipped around to find Aliona leaning against the doorframe…and she looked all kinds of fuckable. He had chosen well. Those shorts hugged her tight little ass in ways that he had only previously imagined.

Then there were the pearls.

His eyes ran over her chest hungrily. He instantly felt himself popping a stiffy. If she made even one ill-judged movement, then he could expect to glimpse the undoubtedly pretty nipples that lay beneath. You had to plan ahead for these things, and he intended to finally get his eyes on every part of her tonight.

* * *

Dean had laid out a veritable feast for dinner. Bowls were heaped with mashed potatoes, sprouts, carrots, corn and broccoli, to name a few. There were two different types of gravy. Not to mention the crowning glory of the meal – the surkey.

"What's a surkey?" Aliona asked, eyeing the meaty mountain suspiciously. No matter how good this boy looked shirtless, that wasn't reason enough to trust his culinary skills.

Dean grabbed a plate and began to pile it up with chunks of surkey, handing it over to her. "It's a turkey made entirely of sausages," he explained, as if it were common knowledge. "This is one of my own little traditions. You should eat up – we need to make sure you continue to fill out those shorts so nicely. What would you normally eat on Christmas day?"

She picked up a fork, her nose wrinkling at the still shifty looking food before her. The unexpected compliment helped to take the edge off her reluctance. "Reindeer balls."

He almost choked on his wine, spluttering and hastily wiping at his mouth with a napkin. "That is just _wrong_."

She pierced a piece of surkey and pointed her fork at him, "You are not in a position to judge, my friend. I at least am trying to keep an open mind for your beloved surkey. Besides, they're not actual reindeer balls. They're homemade chocolate truffles that I roll up into round shapes. My brothers and sisters love them."

"Oh," he said, chewing on his own surkey thoughtfully. "They actually sound kind of nice."

"I'll send you some," she said quietly, realising that it was the best offer that she could make. They would be saying goodbye in just over twelve hours. Then she would make her way home, and make some reindeer balls for her siblings. A sharp little stabbing pain attacked her gut – she didn't like the thought of leaving him. Going home seemed just as unappealing.

"Anyway, when did the surkey tradition start?" It was best to change the subject when you were in danger of bawling right in front of the guy you wanted to bone. Her make-up would be destroyed.

"I was about eight. It was just me and my Mom, and she wasn't one for cooking. So I did the best with what I had – which happened to be sausages. I couldn't have handled something like a turkey, it takes way too much time, and I couldn't risk burning down our apartment…not that it was much of a palace, but still. My little kid mind rationalised that the next best thing to a real turkey would be one constructed out of sausages. I knew how to make them, so I put together a haphazard, turkey-shaped thing, and surkey was born. My Mom had passed out drunk by the time it was ready, but it made the day bearable for me. Once I started, I couldn't really stop. And here we are, twenty years later."

Her heart tightened in her chest, saddened for the little boy who had tried his best to make Christmas special, only to end up spending it alone. If you looked at Dean, you would never expect him to come out with a story like that. He was so confident, didn't have trouble speaking his mind, and was obviously a driven person. Although she was clueless about the world of professional wrestling, she guessed that it wasn't an easy industry to break into.

She took a generous bite of surkey and smiled at him. "It tastes really good. Surprisingly good."

He smirked back at her. "Only the finest American sausage for you, babe."

"Mmmm," she moaned, overdoing it for his benefit. "Oh God. It's so juicy, so thick, and so _delicious_. This is the best sausage that I've ever had in my mouth. I think I might need seconds."

"Get through that pile first, and then we'll see if you'll be able to handle seconds," he snorted. "Don't forget about dessert, either. You need to leave room for that."

"Good point. Maybe I'll have some left-over surkey later. Dessert is my weakness."

"Now, I don't have reindeer balls, but I do have ice-cream and cake."

"What kind of cake?"

"Chocolate fudge. Chicks like chocolate, right?"

"This chick does," she smiled, practically inhaling the rest of her meal. Dean was a good chef, and the carb heavy meal was exactly what she needed to get through her hangover.

"Hey, could you grab me that gravy boat?" Dean asked.

"Sure," she said, reaching over to her left. "There you go."

"Thanks. Can I get the bowl of carrots, too?"

She looked at him for a moment, then glanced at the bowl, which was way over to her right. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to get that one?"

"Please?" He offered her a puppy dog look.

"Yeah, okay," she sighed, straining to reach the bowl. She had to stand up a little before her fingers clasped the rim.

Dean took the bowl from her, a frown marring his brow.

"What's the matter?" She asked.

Setting the bowl down, she suddenly heard the clink of cutlery falling to the ground.

"Oh no, I dropped my knife and fork. Mind getting them for me, Ali?"

She was both confused and suspicious by that point. She was about to protest and insist that he pick them up himself, when he broke in, "I'm just so tired after all of that cooking. My back aches, and they're all the way down there on the floor."

Preferring to avoid a guilt trip, she nodded and pushed back her chair. She tucked her hair behind her ears, as she leaned forward and hunched down to locate the utensils that were somewhere beneath the table.

She crawled under the broad wooden table, gathering the knife and fork in one hand, while balancing herself with the other. She glanced up, and found Dean's face peeking down, watching her.

"Here you go," she said, passing them to him. The frown had deepened, a look of annoyance in his eyes. Pulling herself back out, she stood and dusted off her shorts.

"What's going on? Why do you look so pissed off?"

"It's nothing," he muttered, refusing to look her in the eye.

"No, tell me. Why are you grumpy all of a sudden?"

"Those beads didn't move one fucking inch," he whined, thrusting his bottom lip out.

Aliona looked down at her chest, noting that the tape had done its job like a pro. The little pervert had picked this outfit with the intention of getting a free show? No wonder he looked so irritated!

"That's why you had me moving around? You wanted to see me expose myself?"

"I thought I deserved it," he stated plainly. "I really have been a good boy this year. No STDs or nothing."

How did he manage to be such an adorable pervert? She would forever ponder that one.

"Good to know," she said with a smile.

The shrill scream of the _Psycho_ violins suddenly interrupted the peace that had settled in the room.

Dean quickly yanked his cell out of his pocket. Without even glancing at the screen, he thumbed the Ignore button. He paused for a second, looked up at the ceiling, and then hastily typed up a text message, tossing the phone on the table when he was done.

Aliona watched him with interest, biting back her questions. That was the same ringtone that had cut short their little moment yesterday. Was it the same person? He had reacted badly to the caller the day before, but seemed to have opted for a different tactic this evening. He seemed to be less interested in verbally cutting them down, resorting to a text instead. She couldn't help but wonder who it was, and how they had earned Dean's displeasure. He was a laid-back guy, not quick to anger. What was that all about?

"Alright, time for dessert," he announced, picking up their plates and heading for the kitchen.

_It's none of my business…just forget about it…_

* * *

"Is there anything more satisfying in this world than cake?" Aliona asked, placing her empty plate on the coffee table with a happy sigh. She once again thanked the universe that her father wasn't here, he would freak out if he saw her consuming unnecessary calories.

She didn't regret a single bite.

"Oh come on, that's far too easy," Dean laughed, putting his own empty plate next to hers. He sank back into the couch and rubbed his taut tummy.

Aliona, out of habit at that stage, idly slapped his chest. "And so are you."

Dean acknowledged the truth of her statement with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Where are my presents, peasant?" He demanded, sitting up and looking around. Aliona retrieved the sack and set it down in front of her, sorting through the contents.

"Do you want to go first, or should I?" She asked.

Dean paused for a second, grabbing the last two presents from underneath the tree and smirked, "Heh, ladies first." He passed his next offering to her and watched her intently.

Aliona weighed the gift in her hands, she honestly had no idea what to expect. Dean Ambrose was far from predictable. She tore back the paper and gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth. She stared down at the present, a warm feeling bubbling through her blood. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded, revealing nothing in his expression. "Do you like it?"

She remained silent, glancing back down at the present. Unable to hold her happiness in check, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"It's AWESOME. I'll treasure it forever. It will be useful evidence when I bring my sexual harassment claim." She grinned as she pulled back, her eyes once again drawn to the framed photo of her and Santa Claus. The old man was openly admiring her chest in the shot, while her own face was a mask of horror as she looked beyond the camera at Dean, silently begging for help.

"How did you organise this?"

"That elf was really into me," he smiled. "She emailed me the photos, and I got them printed at the mall. I wanted you to have a souvenir from your first time meeting Santa. Doubt you could ever forget it now."

Aliona laughed, she would never want to forget that experience, mostly because Dean had been there to make it outrageously fun.

"My turn!" He yelled.

"Indoor voice," she reprimanded, as he ducked his head sheepishly. "Here you go."

He eagerly ripped it open, pulling out the card. "IOU a sloppy blowjob?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Shut up! It does _not_ say that!"

"Says the girl who got me a handjob," he smirked. He scanned the card, looking up at her with a wide grin. "Subscription to a sausage tasting club?"

"Well, I knew that you liked it a lot, and now I understand why," she said, almost feeling embarrassed at how much sentimental value this gift held, now that she knew about his past. "They ship you a different type every month. Jason will keep an eye out for it and store it for you if you're on the road. Did I do good?"

He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a hug and kissed her hair. "You did a damn good job. I know how I'll be spending my days off – stuffing myself full of beer and sausage. It better be American, none of this wussy European shit."

"Oh, of course, because you have _standards_, Mr. Ambrose," she ragged. "How could I forget?"

"Jerk," he muttered with a smile, holding out her final present. "Last one." He drummed his hands rapidly on the wood of the coffee table, building up the suspense.

Aliona accepted the large brown envelope. Its normalcy made it stand out starkly from the collection of garishly bright gifts that he had already offered her. "Please be a Green Card, please be a Green Card," she whispered, crossing her fingers and looking up to the heavens.

She opened it carefully, shaking out its contents. A massive heap of five dollar bills landed in her lap. "I'm fresh out of guesses," she admitted. "You've got me with this one."

"That is five hundred dollars in fresh, crisp five dollar bills," he explained, gathering them up and shuffling them into order. "I'm going to make a donation in your name to a very worthy local cause – the fine young women of Vegas who have daddy issues."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Oh, really? And where would you find these fine young women?"

"Strip clubs. I'll personally deliver it to them."

"I'd rather do it myself," she said bluntly.

Dean instantly perked up. "Fuck, that would be hot. They'd probably offer you a hug as a thank you. Maybe a dance. And then a kiss. And then they'd end up grinding all up on you, playing with their tits and…"

"Down, boy," she interrupted, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Come on back…that's it."

Dean shook his head, a dazed look in his baby blues. "Right, right. I'm back. Now I'm regretting actually making a donation to that puppy orphanage." He reached into the envelope and showed her a printed note of thanks from a local animal shelter. "The notes were for demonstrative purposes. I sent the funds over yesterday, and they gave you this."

"A _puppy orphanage_? For orphan puppies?" Aliona couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes and threatened to overflow as she read the note. "And they'll let me come and hug the puppies whenever I want?"

Dean watched her in bewilderment, not knowing what to do about her tears. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, because they're not going to hug themselves, right?"

She sniffled and smiled at him, taking a deep breath. "Ha, right. This is beautiful, thank you. We're going to have to go there some day and hug them."

"Of course," he promised. "But, I must warn you, puppies and Dean Ambrose would be a lethal combination. Your ovaries wouldn't stand a chance."

"Oh, I'd believe that," she laughed.

"I wonder if wriggly puppies could move those beads and let me see those...puppies," he said wistfully, staring at her chest again.

"Let it go, Dean. Here, have a gift to help you through this dark time."

"I get _two_ Russian peasants!" He yelled, doing another of his shoulder dances and waving her card about. "This is badass. So, she'll send me letters and give me updates, and you'll give me handjobs? A man can't lose in this situation."

"Yeah, that's exactly how it works," she nodded, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "You've got one peasant in Russia, and one right here. This little girl will get to go to school thanks to the donation made in your name - she'll send you letters about her progress in the coming months - and then I'll be back a few times a year to jerk you off. That's how we do things in Russia."

"Thank you, Russia," he said, letting out a low whistle. "Even if those beads _still_ haven't moved."

* * *

Aliona swilled the warm brandy around her mouth, savouring the rich flavour on her tongue. She was lounging on the couch with her legs propped up on Dean's lap, pondering his question. What _was_ her Christmas wish?

Her mind was still occupied by it, when her phone beeped. Her heart stopped for a moment. It couldn't be…could it? Had her father finally acknowledged her absence? It was already December 26th at home - her empty chair at the dinner table should have been glaringly obvious.

_Papa._ That word on the screen made her feel uneasy. She loved him, he had been the centre of her universe since she was a kid, but she was wary of him after his apparent indifference over the past twenty four hours.

_Nuclear bombs better have fallen on the city. That's the only excuse for his behaviour. _

She read the message once, then read it again to ensure that she hadn't missed something.

_Dochenka. I will be in touch tomorrow._

Aliona stared at the screen in disbelief, before flinging the phone to the floor. Really? That was the best he could come up with, when his eldest daughter was thousands of miles from home, and alone to the best of his knowledge?

Dean watched her curiously, unsure of what to say. He couldn't read the expression on her face, and it was frustrating. He prided himself on being able to read people, it was his thing.

Several minutes passed in silence.

"Touch me."

Dean glanced over at Aliona, certain that he had misheard her. "What?"

"You asked me what my Christmas wish would be…I want you to touch me. Please."

Her big brown eyes were full of emotion – longing, sadness, and that mysterious shadow that he couldn't decipher. How could he say no to this girl?

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, needing to know that she wanted it as much as he did.

"Yes."

One little word. It was said with such assurance, firmly pushing aside any doubts.

Dean put her legs down on the floor, shifting over until he was beside her. His palm skimmed over her hip, moving up over the bare skin of her side, and ghosting over the swell of her breast, before cupping the back of her neck.

He moved his mouth closer to hers, but paused before their lips touched. "If you want me, you're going to have to come to me. I don't want to be a comfort fuck."

Aliona swallowed hard, knowing that he was right. She couldn't use Dean to plug the hole in her heart that had been created by her family and their coldness. She took a deep breath and stared up at him. No time like the present for some honesty.

"I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you yesterday," she admitted, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. They were still a mere breath away from kissing.

"Those eyes of yours are fucking killer." She traced a finger from his forehead down to his cheekbone. "That voice, so deep and rough, never fails to ruin my panties."

Her eyes dropped to his lips, so plump and pouty. "But most of all, I want your mouth. That beautiful mouth that says the dirtiest, most random things. I want to explore it with my tongue. I want it on my body. And I _really_ want to see it open and call out my name when you come."

Dean's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected all of _that_. His little peasant wasn't just all sweetness and light, after all. He was hard at the mere thought of what else she would reveal to him tonight.

"I think we can arrange for all of that," he mused, pushing his tongue out and licking along the outline of her mouth as he continued to hold her there. "But I'm gonna make you work for it, darlin'."

Aliona's breath hitched at his words - she was only too happy to work for it.

"Now, c'mere," he whispered. She obliged immediately, leaning in and pressing her lips to his, her hands sliding down his sides. She used his belt loops as anchors and dragged herself closer to him. Dean kissed her sweetly, lightly pushing his full lips against hers.

Aliona was flushed with lust, she had been since the moment she first saw him. It was a hot, clawing need that had to be sated. Right now.

She groaned against his mouth, unable to take this slow pace any longer. Her tongue darted out and licked at his lips, urging him to open up and tongue the life out of her. Her fingers moved from his waist, to glide over the warm, firm skin of his biceps.

Dean sensed her need, but wasn't in any mood to give it up so easily. He pulled back slightly, still holding her by the nape of her neck, and dipped his head down to drop hot, open-mouthed kisses on the delicate skin just above her collarbone. Aliona eased her head to the side, willingly offering her neck to him so that he could work that gorgeous mouth to devastating effect.

"You're not playing fair!" She moaned, her breath getting shallower with each swipe of his tongue across her skin. Her hands roamed back down to his jeans, and swiftly popped the button, before going to work on his belt.

Dean's other hand, which had been teasing the skin of her lower back, swatted away her efforts. His mouth left her neck, "I have no intention of playing fair, Ali. I want you to _really_ want it. I want to see you writhing, moaning, gasping. I want you to be so hot for me, that you'll do whatever I want…"

His words barely permeated the fog of lust that had descended on her mind. She heard the deep rumble of his voice, but didn't fully grasp the meaning behind his words.

"Yes, yes," she said, pushing him back against the couch with both hands and straddling his lap. "We can have all of those things, but I _really _need your cock right now." Her hands went back to work, managing to undo his belt, push down the zipper and pull out his penis. He was hard and throbbing. The fact that he went commando turned her on even more.

Aliona pumped him firmly a few times, smiling at how the silky skin moved in her grip. He was large, and felt so good in her hand, a warm, solid weight. She bit her lip as she watched him get even harder from her attention. Dean hissed at her touch, running his large hands along the length of her thighs.

"Stop looking at me like that," he chided gently, placing a finger beneath her chin and guiding her gaze back to him. "That look is making it very difficult for me to follow through on my plan to torture you."

She made sure that her eyes retained the unfiltered lust that had misted over them, widening them innocently as she asked, "What look? Do I look like a girl who wants to ride your big, hard cock right this second? Because I really, really do." She moved closer to him and dotted soft little kisses along his jawline, advancing toward his earlobe, before pulling it into her warm mouth and sucking on it.

"Please give it to me, Dean," she whispered against the shell of his ear, her hand still working him. "If you fuck me right now, I'll do whatever you want. Promise."

Did she realise what she was agreeing to with that statement? Had she any fucking clue of the devious sexcapades that had been running in a loop through his mind ever since he spotted her at the airport yesterday? She was hot for him right now...if he gave her what she wanted, then she would only be too willing to return the favour…this could work.

"Fuck it," he bit out as she continued to suck on his earlobe. He yanked a condom out of his pocket and quickly rolled it on. He pulled down her shorts, and ran a single finger along her slit, smirking when he found her dripping wet.

Dean put his hands just under her ass cheeks, lifting her up until she hovered right over him. "Ride away," he said, looking up at her expectantly. "You want it so bad, come and take it. Just remember that I'll hold you to your promise."

Aliona didn't even give two thoughts to it, putting one hand on his shoulder, while using the other to guide him inside of her. Fuck, he was big.

"You feel so good," she breathed out, feeling him stretch her as she sank down. She tried to catch her breath, and leaned her forehead against his as she adjusted to his size.

He held her in place, spitting out a few curses. "You're so fucking tight. Are you sure you're not a virgin?" He was only half joking.

An empty look dampened the deluge of emotions that were swimming in her eyes, before she blinked it away. "I'm definitely not a virgin. A girl never forgets her first time." With that, she began to slide up and down on him, whimpering at the burn. It was a good burn. It had been a while since she had felt it.

Aliona closed her eyes as she bounced on his dick, almost unable to bear the assault on her senses. He felt so good, smelled incredible and those little grunts that were falling from that beautiful mouth were the biggest ego boost ever. It was too much to watch him. She might just die from the pleasure that he was giving her.

"Eyes on me," he ordered, bursting through her reverie. She weakly opened one eye, groaning when she saw his determined expression. He leaned closer to her, his voice nothing more than a cut-glass rasp. "_Both_ eyes on me. I want to see _everything_."

With great effort, she opened them and watched him as he pulled breathy gasps and soft moans from her. His large hands skimmed down her sides, gripping her hips firmly when he began to roughly thrust upward, matching her rhythm beautifully. He kept things interesting by changing his stroke every now and then, catching her by surprise with a deep plunge whenever he felt like it.

Aliona was able to feel every vein and ridge of his cock as it moved against her intimate flesh. He was throbbing with animalistic energy, sliding in deep with each thrust. He alternated between slow, deep movements, holding her down as he circled his hips, causing her to dig her fingernails into the heavy muscles of his shoulders, and sharp, quick pushes.

He lazily thumbed her swollen clit, watching as she jerked and gasped at his touch, her thighs beginning to quake as she got closer. He could feel her rippling around him, feeling like a fucking stud for taking her there so quick. He hadn't even started to work his game yet.

"You look so cute when you're trying to fight it," he murmured, applying added pressure to her clit. "You've got that needy look in your eyes, you're so desperate for it, but you still want to hold out." He looked down to watch where their bodies joined, the wet smacking sounds filling the room.

"But, sweetheart, you don't have a choice in the matter," he growled, leaning forward and speaking directly into her ear. "You're gonna sit there and take it. And you're going to fucking _love_ it."

Dean held her still and thrust up into her with everything that he had. She was shaking with the effort of riding him, and the effects that her approaching climax was having on her. He was always willing to help a girl out. He clasped a hand at the back of her neck, forcing her to look down at him as he rammed into her, creating an irresistible friction that got them closer with every thrust.

A loud, guttural moan fell out of her pretty mouth, her lips opening in an O of ecstacy. She obviously remembered his order, and allowed him to watch every emotion in those big brown eyes as her orgasm ripped through her body. Never ceasing his thrusts, he followed moments later, letting out a forceful "Fuuuuuck!" as he came.

Aliona collapsed against his chest, smiling when she felt him pulsing inside of her. "That was exactly what I needed," she whispered, breathing heavily. Dean cleared his throat, attempting to calm down his thundering heartbeat.

That had been a pretty explosive quickie. He had come _hard_. This girl was something else – asking to ride him, and then not shying away when he told her to look at him as she orgasmed. It had been his experience that a lot of girls got all coy when it came to asking for what they wanted. They always closed their eyes and meekly hid from their own pleasure. Not Aliona. She was all in.

He couldn't fucking _wait_ to do things his way.

* * *

**A/N: Before you start a witch-hunt, hear me out! I gave you some smut in this chapter, but not everything. By the time I got to the smut in this chapter, my word count had soared. I learned my lesson with chapter two, and don't want important parts of the story to be lost amongst a mass of words. **

**So, to make it easier for all involved, I decided to dedicate an extra chapter to Dean's smutty plans. He has given her the quickie that she so desperately wanted in this chapter, and chapter 6 will detail what happened when they did things his way. Are y'all interested in reading that extra chapter?**

**If you like it, please review! Reviews motivate me, and it's honestly easier to get excited when you know that there are people out there who have taken an interest in your story, and that you're not just writing to yourself. Don't be shy. **

**If you don't like it, please review! I'm happy to listen to constructive feedback.**

**P.s. Happy Valentine's Day for Friday, whether you've found your own Dean, or are enjoying the hunt to find him :D**


	6. Chapter 6

Hi Team Sex Pest!

This is one of those annoying Author's Notes (I know, yuck!).

I won't be able to update this story until I finish my exams next month. I love the Sex Pest, Aliona and TSP too much to give you shoddy updates, so I think this is for the best (this sounds like a really bad break-up speech).

Thanks a MILLION for the incredible response to Chapter 5. It really blew me away. Your taking time to read this story, to follow and favourite means an awful lot to me. Thank you to everyone who reviewed – I think I PM'd all of you, but some of you have disabled that function so please take my word that I am really grateful for your support!

I hope that you'll continue to read when the Sex Pest returns next month, I love writing this story and hearing all of your feedback.

Don't be afraid to PM me if you have any questions/suggestions, or just want to chat. I'm friendly enough :P I'm currently recovering from how WWE made Dean into a sacrificial lamb last night – can they not see that this man is both a Sex Pest AND a natural born star?! Let's discuss THAT.

Argh, this has been too long, but just ONE more thing - I know we left off on quite a teasing note at the end of Chapter 5, so here's a brief little teaser of what lies ahead in Chapter 6:

_"Now I get to do all sorts of interesting things to you," he whispered, pulling her toward him, his jeans hanging loose, barely covering his firm butt. He jerked her flush up against him, his large hands running down her back and smoothing over her ass. He grabbed her cheeks and began to knead them._

_"Such soft skin," he murmured, his hands spanning her ass as he pushed her against his erection. He was already hard again, thinking about all of the things that he would do to her tonight. That quickie had just been a taster for what was to come. It was natural that it had been short, sweet and explosive – the sexual tension between them had been building for an entire day, it was the constant sexy elephant in the room. A short fuck had released some of that pent up frustration, and primed them for the good stuff._

_He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the warmth of her soft body as it nestled up against his own harder, much larger frame. He continued to grind against her bare sex, smiling when she began to gasp lightly. He wasn't fucking around here, he wanted to build her up slowly until she was begging him to take them to the explosive end. And she would DEFINITELY beg._


End file.
